


To Every Thing There is a Season

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Orphans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven ...</p><p>Thorin is the last of his family, now that his sister has passed.  How will he raise his two young nephews by himself and how will he come to terms with all that they have lost?  Thorin has no idea.  Until, that is, he meets a man who shares the same tragedy ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Time To Mourn

**Author's Note:**

> (The Title of this fic and the chapters are taken form the Bilble, Ecclesiastes 3:1 to 3:8. I am NOT a religious person but these well known passages were too appropriate.)

* * *

 

_**NOW** _

 

            Thorin was miserable standing there on the rocky shore. Regardless of the three piece suit and tie, there was just no way to be warm; he could have been wearing his pajamas for all the protection from the elements his clothing offered. Even with the heavy coat, gloves and scarf, Thorin could feel the cold slowly seeping down into his bones. Of course, the breaking waves and salty sea wind didn’t help

            His entire body was slowly going numb, but truth be told, he couldn’t really say if that was because of the near fidget air or something he still couldn’t say out loud; he’d been slowly going numb for the last few weeks.

            Thorin shouldn’t be standing here now. His nephews shouldn’t have to be standing there with him. None of them deserved to go through this nightmare. But then, Dis deserved to be with her boys; she deserved to live. She certainly hadn’t deserved to die in these cold, grey waters. Not she, not the other people who died with her, no one deserved that.

            And speaking of his nephews, there'd been no one else to take Fili and Kili. Oh, not that any one of the Durin’s wouldn’t have taken them in and loved them; it was just that Thorin was the logical choice. Balin, while wise and gentle, would not have been able to handle a pre-teen and a small child, and maintained his position at the University. Dwalin wasn’t home enough, even if he was now stationed locally. And Ori, intelligent and clever as always, fully admitted that he wasn’t a disciplinarian; hell, he barely controlled his husband and that was only because Dwalin took one look at Ori’s ‘sad face’ and caved; bloody sap. Gloin had his own son to worry over and, like Balin, Gloin’s brother Oin was consumed with his work; a thriving, growing medical practice.

            No, it had to be Thorin. Besides, he was Dis’ brother for God’s sake! He was their closest living relative, closer to them than their father’s family, who had made it perfectly clear that they never approved of their son’s marriage to Dis to begin with, so why would they take in Dis’ orphaned children?

            Now, at the memorial service, the weather was making the situation that much worse at the moment. There were about a hundred people there, all dressed in black. Strangers brought together and connected in the most horrible and macabre way imaginable; the loss of a loved one to the force of nature.

            The organizers had asked each family if they wanted to have a representative give a short speech or read a poem or do something. A good number declined; probably because they couldn’t bring themselves to do it. Thorin had wanted to decline himself—he didn’t go into public speaking if he could avoid it—but somehow, refusing seemed wrong. So, with the boys at his side, he had read the poem, _‘Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep’_ , by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

 

_Do not stand at my grave and weep._

_I am not there. I do not sleep._

_I am a thousand winds that blow._

_I am the diamond glints on snow._

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain._

_I am the gentle autumn rain._

_When you awaken in the morning’s hush_

_I am the swift uplifting rush_

_Of quiet birds in circled flight._

_I am the soft stars that shine at night._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry;_

_I am not there. I did not die._

            Thorin had read it slow and with determination, fighting to keep his deep voice steady. He didn’t want to stumble over the words or cry like many others had while he recited it. Although, he had heard one lone person release quiet sobs with such a tender, lost quality that it threatened to tear at Thorin’s heart; but he got through it. He wanted to hold it together; for his nephews, for himself, but mostly for Dis. She deserved that; she deserved to live. She certainly didn’t deserve to die with thirty other people on what should have been a lovely night of merriment on the water.

            The poem had seemed ages ago now and he figured it must be getting close to the end of the service. The priest or reverend or whatever he called himself, was droning on and the volunteers were getting the floral wreaths ready to release into the water that marked the close of the ceremony. Most of the wreaths were all white flowers; some had white with a single red flower mixed in—a rose or carnation. Yet, one wreath caught his attention; lilies, roses, Gerber daisies and stock, all in bright spring colors; a splash of life in the midst of sadness and grief. Thorin had to wonder, who would give such a wreath at this time?

            As they began taking the wreaths and letting them float away on the tide, someone began to sing. It was a lovely, tenor voice and, it took Thorin only a few seconds to realize the song, _‘Weep No More Sad Fountains.’_ Thorin paused in his amazement; it was Dis’ favorite song from one of her favorite movies, _‘Sense and Sensibility._ ’ At least, it had been. The young man’s voice was so gentle and the song so bittersweet that Thorin almost lost all composure.

            “Uncle Thorin?” Kili said softly, pulling Thorin back to reality.

            “Yes, Kili,” Thorin bent down to the boys’ level, though not letting go of their hands.

            “I’m …” Kili hesitated

            “What is it, mate?” Thorin asked.

            “We’re hungry,” Fili said quietly, just above a whisper. Fili was always the one to interpret and speak up for Kili when he was too shy to do it himself.

            Thorin hadn’t thought to bring snacks with him and of course the boys would be hungry—when weren’t they? They were just kids; Fili only twelve, Kili still in the single digits; Dammit, why hadn’t he thought of this?! And it pained him to hear them ask as if it was bad thing for them to do.

            “Let’s go have lunch, yeah?”

            Both boys nodded, their cheeks red from the cold and stained from their tears. Thorin pulled them into a tight hug before standing and leading them back to the car. He didn’t look back, he didn’t want to see Dis’ wreath floating away on the current; he wasn’t sure he could take it.

            Good-bye, Dis.

 

 

 


	2. A Time To Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin comes to realize that he isn't alone in his grief

* * *

 

            The café was packed; well at least near the counter was packed. Thorin had a tight grip on each boy as the crowd pressed closer. There was a great deal of jostling and an occasional push—not intended of course—from those for whom this was just another Saturday.

            _Just another day to them,_ Thorin thought. _They live their lives without the knowledge that so many recently lost theirs. Their biggest concern is making it back to their office or off to the shops while I am consumed by the death of my sister—the last of my immediate family—the future of my nephews and the overwhelming guilt that it should have been me and not her._

A part of him knew it to be ridiculous and irrational to be angry at these people and, to be honest, he wasn’t angry _at_ them or even _with_ them; he was just angry. And it was getting harder and harder to just keep it—

            “Do you mind?!” Thorin thundered, whipping around as the crowd parted a bit. “I’d _really_ appreciate it if you didn’t elbow me in the back again!” Thorin glared down at the only person left standing near him, a shorter, ash blond man who looked more than a little startled.

            “I’m so sorry,” the man said. “Someone accidentally pushed me and I couldn’t—”

            “What?” Thorin sneer. “Couldn’t apologize?!”

            “No! Not at all, it—”

            “You know, some of us have more important things to worry about than what fucking cheese to have on our sandwich!”

            “I know you do—”

            “You don’t know anything about me! So don’t—”

            “I’m sorry, Mister Durin,” the man said softly and effectively silenced Thorin. “I didn’t mean to make your or your nephews' day worse. Honest.”

            Thorin was stunned as he watched the man turn and walk away. It was in that moment he took in the black suit and long heavy coat the man wore, coupled with the amazement that the guy not only knew Thorin’s last name but that the two boys with him were his nephews. It was in the _next_ moment that Thorin’s memory repeated his introduction at the service by the clergyman, _‘We’ll now hear from Mister Thorin Durin and his two nephews, who lost his sister; their mother.’_

Thorin realized the only way the blond man would've known him and the boys were was if he had been at the service. The fire of Thorin’s anger went out in the cold of his shame; he had just insulted another mourner like himself.

            _Brilliant; good on you, Durin_ , Thorin thought bitterly. _Why not just kick the man in the gut for good measure while you’re at it._

            The boys were confused but Thorin didn’t answer their questions of _'Where are you going?'_ as he made his way to the back of the café towards the table the man sat at. Thorin was many things, but a coward was not one of them; he would apologize and attempt to make amends to the man as best he could.

            “Excuse me,” Thorin said as he approached and the man looked up, his face unreadable. “I’m … I’m terribly sorry for—”

            “It’s alright,” The man said, cutting Thorin off.

            “It’s _not_ alright,” Thorin contended. “My words were uncalled for, to say the least. You didn’t deserve such treatment for what was clearly an accident.”

            “It’s alright,” The man repeated with a soft, sad smile. “Truly. I think the day has been very hard for all of us.”

            That was when Thorin noticed the small boy tucked tight against the man’s side. The boy wore black pants and waistcoat with a crisp white shirt. But it was the boy’s large, blue eyes that spoke of pain and heartache; a boy lost in grief. Thorin’s gut rolled at the sight and he felt even worse than before.

            “Hello there,” Thorin said to the child, trying his best to smile for the lad. “What’s your name, little man?”

            The boy stared up at Thorin, his blue eyes sparkling with what Thorin suspected were unshed tears; he didn’t answer Thorin’s question.

            “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” The man asked the boy softly but the boy only turned to look at the blond man before returning to gaze up at Thorin, silently, once more. “It’s okay,” The man tried again. “You can talk to him.”

            “I’m Frodo,” The boy finally answered in a whispered voice that sounded raw; as if it hadn’t been used in ages.

            “How do you do, Frodo,” Thorin stated. “I’m Thorin and this is Kili and Fili.”

            Both of his nephews waved at Frodo who, in turn, only looked despondently from Kili to Fili. Suddenly Frodo’s chin began to quiver, the unshed tears escaped the boy’s eyes and he turned to the man he sat with and said, miserably, “I miss Mommy and Daddy.”

            “I know you do, sweet-pea,” The man said, sounding almost as miserable as the boy.

            Thorin desperately wanted to leave, he wanted to go, he never should have intruded. He had insulted the boy’s … guardian or whatever the man was, and now his very presence had apparently caused the child more grief.

            But his nephews had other ideas.

            Fili and Kili, simultaneously, released their hold on his hands and surged forward, each hurrying over and wrapping their arms around Frodo. It was as amazing as it was heart-aching to see the three youngsters joined together in their shared loss.

            “Here is your tea,” said a young waitress, coming up behind Thorin and setting a large, steaming cup in front of the blond man. “And the hot chocolate for the little one.”

            “Thank you,” the blond said with a waning smile at the girl.

            “Forgive me,” Thorin said. “We should probably—”

            “Won’t you sit down?” The man asked softly.

            “I don’t to intru—”

            “Please?”

            Thorin couldn’t resist the gentle plea and nodded, taking the chair directly across from the man.

            “Can I get you anything?” the waitress asked Thorin politely.

            Thorin suddenly remembered why they came in the first place. “Yes,” He stated turning to his nephews. “Boys? What would you like?”

            The three boys pulled apart and Fili spoke up. “Can we have fish and chips, Uncle Thorin?”

            Thorin wanted to laugh; that’s all they _ever_ wanted. He turned to the waitress, “Two orders of fish and chips and two cokes.”

            “Can I have some fish and chips too?” the small voice of Frodo brought the entire table to a quiet standstill.

            The blond man looked like Frodo had spoken in a foreign tongue. “You can have _whatever_ you want, sweet-pea.”

            “Make that three orders, then,” Thorin said giving the blond a small smile that was returned.

            “Would you gentleman care for anything to eat?” the waitress asked after writing what the youngsters wanted.

            “I’m fine,” Thorin said with a shake of his head. “Just a black coffee.” He looked at the other man who gave him a slightly pointed look. “I’m not hungry.”

            The guy nodded but turned to the waitress. “What soups do you have? And do you have any soda bread?”

            “We do have soda bread,” the girl answered, “and we have Cream of Tomato and we're known for our Beef stew.”

            “Bring us a bowl of each,” the man ordered, “and a loaf of soda bread with lots of butter.” The girl left and the blond guy turned to give Thorin a crooked smile.

            Thorin was a little stunned; had the guy really just ordered for him? “Honest,” Thorin said firmly, “I’m not hungry.”

            “Uh-uh,” The blond replied clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”

            Thorin couldn’t decide if he should be offended or grateful; he just shook his head instead. “You know, I don’t even know—”

            “Bilbo,” the blond said softly as he extended his hand across the table. “Bilbo Baggins.”

            “Thorin,” he said, as he reached out and took Bilbo’s hand. Thorin wasn’t sure if he actually wanted lunch, but for a split second, he was definitely sure he wanted it with Bilbo Baggins.

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

            Sitting on the bench in the park, Thorin was glad of one thing; that he’d eaten.

            He had no idea how hungry he was until the waitress had set the food on the table and Bilbo had gently pushed the large bowl of steaming hot stew right into Thorin’s space. One whiff and it was all he could do not to drool. Bilbo had then proceeded to tear off a huge chunk of the soda bread, somehow instinctively knowing that Thorin had wanted to dunk the bread into the hearty broth.

            Ah … heaven.

            During the meal, the boys chatted and talked; they all seemed to avoid the subject of their lost loved ones. Bilbo asked Fili and Kili about school and what they liked and that in turn brought Frodo a little more out of his shell. Thorin took up the same idea and asked Frodo similar questions and tied it back to Fili and Kil; both of whom were already taken with Frodo.

            When lunch was over and Thorin was full and sated, Bilbo suggested they all go to the park and let the boys run around and burn off the some of the energy they had acquired from their food and caffeinated beverages, not to mention give them time to play and be children once more without the taint of death about them.

            Despite the earlier chill, the day had warmed slightly and all three boys were running around playing tag or something of the like; their laughter and screams balms to the two men who watched them from the park bench a short distance away. Fili and Kili had left their coats and suit jackets next to Thorin and Frodo had unbuttoned his waistcoat and untucked his shirt.

            “They seem like such good boys,” Bilbo said, a small smile on his face as he watched Fili run after Kili and Frodo.

            “Dis did a good job,” Thorin said, a bitter swell of pride rising up in him. He shook it off. “Of course, I can say the same thing about Frodo.”

            “Prim would be so grateful to hear that,” Bilbo remarked softly.

            “Was she your sister?” Thorin asked, instantly worrying that he might have stepped too far.

            But Bilbo apparently didn’t mind. “No,” he answered quickly before looking at Thorin directly. “Her husband, Drogo, was my second cousin.”

            Thorin was amazed. “So Frodo isn’t really—”

            “My nephew?” Bilbo asked with amusement. “No; second cousin once removed. But Drogo and I grew up together and were like brothers, so I guess it’s only natural for Frodo to think of me as his uncle. And, truth be told, I’m very pleased by that.”

            “I’m sure,” Thorin stated, glancing over to the boys; making sure they were okay. “Do you have any siblings?”

            “Only child,” Bilbo admitted. “What about you?”

            “I’m the oldest of three,” Thorin said, before adding sadly. “Or … at least, I was.”

            Bilbo turned in his seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

            “No,” Thorin turned himself so that he was facing Bilbo. “Of course you didn’t. And it’s okay. We lost Frerin almost ten years ago … in Iraq. My parents died a few years ago in a car accident, so now with Dis gone …” Thorin trailed off. He didn’t need to explain further, it was clear.

            They had now entered the topic that had brought them together but they had actively tried to avoid with the boys nearby.

            “I hope you don’t mind my saying,” Bilbo started, “I loved your reading of _‘Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep.’_ ”

            Thorin huffed out a smile. “Thank you.”

            “I read the same poem at both my parent’s funerals,” Bilbo remarked. “However, unlike you, I didn’t make through either time without crying.”

            “I almost didn’t either,” Thorin confessed. “I was expecting some to cry; even the boys, although I doubt they understood the imagery of the poem. But someone started sobbing during and I almost joined them.”

            “Oh dear,” Bilbo seemed embarrassed. “I’m afraid that was me.”

            “That was you?” Thorin was surprised, to say the least.

            “Like I said,” Bilbo said sheepishly. “I never made it through that poem without losing it. Besides, I could see you were in so much pain.”

            Thorin stilled. How could Bilbo know? He had worked so hard to be calm and collected; least his nephews know of his feelings; least they knew the truth. He thought he had his emotions so well hidden and … and buried.

            “Why do you say that?” Thorin whispered loudly.

            Bilbo just shrugged a shoulder. “I’m a writer; I observe humanity for a living. I could tell that your stoic demeanor was little more than a mask—”

            Thorin was going to stop breathing.

            “—I could see your loss in your eyes—”

            Thorin’s throat was closing.

            “—I could hear your heartache in your voice—”

            Thorin’s mouth went dry.

            “—your pain was evident in the very way you held yourself—”

            Thorin felt a little dizzy.

            “—and there was something else there; like you … like you felt guilty.”

            God help him! The numbness that Thorin had been feeling, that had been building for weeks, suddenly cracked like ice, and all that he had held back, had kept hidden, had buried deep, rushed forth. With a last deep breath in—one last vain attempted to hold back his shame—Thorin breathed out and the floodgates opened. Thorin’s resolve crumbled and the tears he hadn’t shed fell like rain.

            But as much as he was lost in his grief, he was aware that he was being gathered up and held. Bilbo had wrapped his arms around Thorin’s shoulders and pulled the taller man to him, cradling his head and offering the comfort that Thorin so desperately needed.

            “Let it out, Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, even as Thorin’s tears turned to ugly, tearing sobs. “It’s alright.”

            “It’s not,” Thorin said, his face buried in the crook of Bilbo’s neck, his arms around Bilbo’s waist; like a drowning man. “It’s my fault.”

            “None of this is your fault,” Bilbo protested strongly. “You aren’t to blame.”

            “I am,” Thorin insisted. He hid his face deeper in Bilbo’s shoulder, least he sees the truth on Thorin’s face. “I’m the one that bought Dis the tickets to go.”

            Bilbo tightened his hold and began to rub Thorin’s back slow but firmly. “You. Are. Not. To blame,” Bilbo insisted. “I will be honest with you; I talked Drogo into going that night because Primula wanted to go so badly. I’m the one that helped push him to give in, I convinced him to go, but I know in my heart that I’m not to blame for what happened, it was an accident. It is no more my fault that Drogo and Prim died than it is your fault over Dis.”

            Thorin wasn’t sure he could go so far as to let go of all blame but he couldn’t argue with Bilbo. It felt, _good_ —if good was the right word—to share his guilt with someone else and deep down, he knew he wouldn’t have held Bilbo to blame for the death of his cousin and his wife, and a part of him began to understand that, in reality, he couldn’t hold himself to blame either.

            But his guilt was mixed with something else; fear.

            “I have the boys now,” Thorin confessed, hiding his face in Bilbo’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m not up to the task.”

            “You’re wonderful with them,” Bilbo said with all confidence.

            Thorin shook his head. It was too much. “I can’t do this!”

            “Yes, you can,”

            “What if I fail them?”

            “You won’t.”

            “I don’t know what do!”

            “You’re already doing it; just love them.”

            “How the hell am I going to raise children?”

            “One day at a time, Thorin. One day at a time.”

            Thorin could swear he heard Dis’ voice in Bilbo’s words, but he would take it. He still worried, he still feared. But there was nothing for it; he had to do it.

            It seemed like forever while Thorin slowly relaxed in Bilbo’s arms and his tears ceased to flow and his breath evened out. Through it all, Bilbo continued to hold him and rocked back and forth so that Thorin grew comfortable and felt safe.

            Then Thorin stilled as Bilbo began to sing in a whispered voice that filled Thorin with so much peace; Bilbo sang the same song at the memorial service.

 

 _Weep you no more, sad fountains;_  
_What need you flow so fast?_  
_Look how the snowy mountains_  
_Heaven's sun doth gently waste._  
  
_But my sun's heavenly eyes_  
_View not your weeping,_  
_That now lies sleeping_  
_Softly, softly, now softly lies_  
_Sleeping._  
  
_Sleep is a reconciling,_  
_A rest that peace begets:_  
_Doth not the sun rise smiling_  
_When fair at even he sets?_  
  
_Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,_  
_Melt not in weeping,_  
_While she lies sleeping_  
_Softly, softly, now softly lies_  
_Sleeping._

            Thorin pulled back as Bilbo finished and for a few moments they just stared at each other; Bilbo a slight blush to his cheeks and Thorin amazed.

            “That was you at the service,” Thorin whispered. It wasn’t really a question.

            “Yes,” Bilbo said. “I feared I would mess up if I said anything or read a poem, but I can always hold it together when I sing.”

            “That was one of Dis’ favorite songs.”

            “Prim’s too. She loved—”

            “ _Sense and Sensibility_?”

            Bilbo giggled. “Yes.”

            Thorin took a deep breath and felt relief, his mind clearer, his heart a little lighter. Of course, that didn’t mean he was immune to other feelings. “I’m sorry,” Thorin said, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t—”

            “What?” Bilbo cut him off gently. “Need comfort? Need to find some peace or come to realize that you aren’t the only one?”

            Thorin couldn’t help but give a small laugh; Bilbo really did see right through him. “When you put it that way …”

            “I should be thanking you,” Bilbo said. “In a way, giving you comfort gave me the comfort I needed too. So, thank you. I feel less … alone.”

            “You’re welcome. And Thank you.” Because Thorin did feel far less alone too now, and maybe a great deal less guilty; all thanks to Bilbo Baggins.

            There was a sudden shrill of a phone and Thorin realized it was his. He quickly pulled it out and saw that it was Dwalin. _Shit_ ; he’d forgotten that they’d made plans.

            Bilbo must have read Thorin’s face. “Do you have to go?”

            “I hate to run,” Thorin really did. “But I forgot I have to meet up with my cousin.”

            “It’s okay,” Bilbo gave Thorin a gracious smile. “I should be going as well. I have to get the last of Frodo’s things from Prim and Drogo’s house.”

            Thorin didn’t envy Bilbo that. “Will you be okay?” He didn’t know why he asked but he felt like he needed to be there for Bilbo.

            Bilbo didn’t try and lie. “I’m not sure. But I have to do it so that the house can be readied for sale.”

            Thorin nodded and realized how lucky he was; he was able to rent out his flat and simply move into Dis’ place so that the boys would not have to move or be uprooted.

            “If … if you need anything …” it sounded hollow and a bit lame but Thorin meant the sentiment sincerely.

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, as they stood. “To tell you the truth, there is something.”

            “Name it,” Thorin said without thinking. Part of him was screaming that he just met this man and he was being awfully generous to offer anything, but a small part of him smiled and was a little warm at the idea.

            “Well,” Bilbo smiled. “Your boys and Frodo seem to get on so well, and they’ve all been through a traumatic event but seem to be helping each other through it …” Bilbo gestured to the three youngsters still running around and playing. “I was wondering if, maybe—”

            “A play date?” Thorin interjected happily.

            “Yes,” Bilbo smiled, clearly relieved at Thorin’s enthusiasm.

            “Sounds like a good idea.” Thorin meant it. It had been nice to see the boys relaxed and enjoying themselves after weeks of tears and moping.

            Bilbo fished into his pocket and pulled out a calling card. Thorin almost chuckled at it; a simple white card with Bilbo’s name on it and his phone number. It was something old fashioned and many would think archaic in the modern world, but Thorin was charmed. He took out his wallet and after putting Bilbo’s card in the front so that he could find it easier; he pulled out one of his business cards and handed it to Bilbo.

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, taking Thorin’s card and putting it in his own wallet. “I’ll give you a call in the next few days or so.”

            “Sounds great,” Thorin replied.

            They called over the boys and after many reassurances that, yes, they would indeed see each other again, they all gave each other their goodbyes and best wishes and good luck.

            If the day seemed a bit brighter and the sun a bit warmer, Thorin wasn’t consciously aware of it; only that it had felt good to make a friend; especially a friend that he didn’t have to hide from.

 

 

 


	3. A Time To Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months after meeting, Thorin and Bilbo spend just another normal 'play day' with the boys ...

* * *

 

_**TWO MONTHS AFTER MEETING** _

 

            “Mister Bilbo!” Kili shouted as he came barreling through the front door of Bag End. “We’re here!”

            Bilbo came out of the kitchen doorway just as Kili was about to enter it. With a not so subtle humph from the impact, Bilbo’s middle was embraced by a wily nine-year-old whose hug was gladly returned. “Hello, you wild child! How did you do on your test?” Bilbo had helped Kili study for his latest history test; a subject Thorin freely admitted was not his cuppa.

            “Awesome!” Kili said, breaking away and looking excited. “I got top marks!”

            “That’s wonderful!” Bilbo was glad. Kili wasn’t a stupid child, he just needed to focus. “I’m sure your uncle is very proud of you.”

            Kili nodded in agreement. “And guess what we did in Biology?”

            “What?”

            “We got watch our science teacher dissect a real frog!”

            Bilbo grimaced. “Oh, my. How … thrilling.”

            “Kilian Tomás Oakes!” Thorin yelled as _he_ came through the front door. “You don’t just barge into someone’s house without knocking!”

            Kili turned around to give his uncle a look of utter confusion. “But Mister Bilbo always says to ‘come in’, so I just saved him the trouble.”

            “That isn’t the point,” Thorin replied, coming to stand and glare down at his youngest nephew. “You knock to give the person inside the choice to tell you to ‘go away.’”

            Kili rolled his eyes. “Mister Bilbo would never say that!” then turned to Bilbo. “Would you Mister Bilbo?”

            Bilbo wanted to say of course not, that Kili was always welcomed and that he should feel free to just come in at any time, just like his brother and his uncle were welcome to do because as far as Bilbo was concerned, they were like family. But what Bilbo wanted, even more, was to have zero impact on Thorin’s authority.

            “While you are always a welcomed guest,” Bilbo said with a smile. “Your uncle is correct; it’s polite, and good manners, to knock and wait for an answer.”

            Thorin crossed his arms and looked down at Kili, clearly waiting for the boy to capitulate and give in: to apologize, look appropriately chastised, understand his mistake, and promise to never come in without knocking again.

            “Grown-ups,” Kili said with an epic eye-roll, throwing up his hands in a gesture of giving up before whispering, “They don’t make any sense.”

            Thorin and Bilbo just stood and watched as Kili took off running upstairs to Frodo’s room where Frodo and Fili already were.

            Bilbo couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.

            “When did I loose my power base?” Thorin said, trying to hide his amusement at the ridiculous nature of his nephew.

            “Kili doesn’t understand the hierarchy of power,” Bilbo quipped. “I don’t think Kili understands anyone that isn’t named … what was his full name again?”

            “Kilian Tomás Oakes,” Thorin said, lugging the large bag he’d brought into the kitchen.

            “Quite the mouthful,” Bilbo said, following Thorin and checking on the roast chicken. It was Saturday lunch, their ‘tradition’, and while Bilbo had every intention of making sandwiches, he liked his chicken salad made with fresh, roasted chicken; canned chicken made his skin crawl. “Is Fili’s just as … robust?”

            “Filib Pádraig Oakes,” Thorin replied.

            “Oh, my God,” Bilbo said. “I had no idea.”

            “Dis’ husband, Vili, was from a traditional, Irish family,” Thorin commented. “They never liked the fact that he married a woman of English heritage and a _protestant_ no less, so when the boys were born, they gave them traditional Irish/Celtic names and saint’s names as a way to … get in their good graces. Sadly it didn’t work.”

            “Vili?” Bilbo said, perplexed, turning to look over his shoulder at Thorin. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard … ever.”

            “It’s an acronym … of sorts.”

            “Of sorts?”

            “Well, his first name was actually Uinseann.”

            “Come again?” Bilbo must’ve heard wrong.

            Thorin just laughed. “Uinseann; it’s Irish for Vincent.”

            “Oh, I see.”

            Thorin nodded. “His middle name was Liam, so when you translate his first name into English—”

            “Then,” Bilbo cottoned on, “take the first two letters of his first and middle names—”

            “You get Vili,” Thorin nodded, obviously impressed that Bilbo got there quickly. “Which, of course, was another area of contention with his family, who thought ‘Vili’ was nothing short of an abomination since there was absolutely nothing wrong with Uinseann—”

            “Except it sounds like a sneeze,” Bilbo interjected dryly.

            “—so, naturally, they blamed it all on Dis and her ‘heretic’ ways.”

            Bilbo sat at the kitchen table while Thorin poured them each a glass of wine before joining Bilbo at the table. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, taking his glass. “Now, Philip—”

            “No, it’s _Filib_ ,” Thorin correct gently. “Spelled the Scottish way, F I L I B.”

            “Can I take it that also didn’t go over with Vili’s family?” Bilbo commented.

            “No,” Thorin confirmed. “It didn’t. She and Vili liked the name ‘Philip’ but that was English, and the Irish spelling is P I L I B, which made Dis worry that other kids would call him ‘Pill’, so they _thought_ , wrongly, that the Scottish name would be a good substitute and then gave him the very traditional ‘Pádraig’ for a middle name.”

            “I have a feeling," Bilbo said, taking a sip of wine, "that no matter what spelling, of whatever name, Dis and Vili choose, was never going to be acceptable because they wouldn’t ever accept Dis.”

            “You’re correct, again,” Thorin said, sounding a little bitter, and taking a sip of wine before continuing. “But they were both very much in love and, frankly, after Kili was born, Vili had reached a limit with his own family and gave up trying to bring them together. As far as he was concerned, Dis was his family and the Durins accepted him, so he became one of us.”

            “He sounds like a good man,” Bilbo said, seeing a fondness come into Thorin’s eyes when he talked of his brother-in-law.

            Thorin nodded. “He was. We went to university together and played rugby. That’s how I got my nickname.”

            “You have a nickname?” Bilbo said, intrigued; especially as a pale blush spread across the taller man’s cheeks. “Will you tell me?”

            Thorin sighed. He really wouldn’t deny Bilbo any request. “Well, Vili wasn’t as big as me and Dwalin, but he was good. He played fly-half, and I and Dwalin played full-backs. With Vili being slighter than myself or Dwalin, though, I tried to keep a look out for him and keep him safe.”

            “That was nice of you,” Bilbo said.

            “Fuck nice!” Thorin pulled a face. “Vili was the one helping me get through Humanities; I had to keep him safe!”

            Bilbo burst into laughter. “You prat!” The insult held no heat.

            “Anyway,” Thorin shrugged off Bilbo’s affectionate insult. “Since Vili’s last name was Oakes and I was always protecting him, the guys started calling me ‘Oakenshield.’”

            “Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said aloud with a smile.

            “What about you?” Thorin asked, finishing off his glass. “Any nicknames?”

            “Sorry,” Bilbo shook his head. “I know Bilbo sounds like a nickname but really, it was just that dad liked William and mother liked Robert, so … they decided to mash them together and make something, _unique._ ” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Which was absolutely in line with everyone else in the family that liked weird, unique names; I mean, Drogo, Frodo, Bungo, Otho, _Bilbo,_ etc.”

            “Wow,” Thorin said. “And here I thought, having a name like Thorin or Dwalin was usual.”

            Bilbo just shrugged as he got up to check the chicken again. “Like The Immortal Bard said, ‘What’s in a name?’”

            “That which we call a rose,” Thorin supplied the rest of the quote, getting up to open the bag he brought. “By any other name, would smell as sweet.” Bilbo laughed and Thorin could not resist continuing, but with a slight alteration. “So _Bilbo_ would, were he not _Bilbo_ called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.”

            “Should I be called Romeo now?” Bilbo said, amused.

            “If you like,” Thorin quipped, “But don’t expect me to change my name to Juliet!”

            Bilbo laughed riotously. “Heaven help us! I prefer Thorin, anyway.”

            “I’ll second that,” Thorin added dryly, setting a large, covered bowl on the counter. “Here, I made this.”

            Bilbo looked almost shocked. “You cooked?! You didn’t have to do that!”

            “It’s not cooking,” Thorin corrected quickly. “You know when it comes to the cooker, if it isn’t boiled … like eggs or pasta, I won’t make it. I’m rubbish. However, when you said you wanted to have picnic food today, I thought ‘Now there’s something I can do.’”

            Bilbo was amazed and removed the lid only to gasp.

            “Is it okay?” Thorin sounded worried. He didn’t cook and for good reason; the one time he’d tried to make a big, fancy meal, there was a small fire.

            But Bilbo wasn’t upset. “You made cucumber salad,” Bilbo said in a dreamy voice as he leaned in and took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “With dill.”

            “I’ll let you in on another little secret,” Thorin said, clearly pleased to have impressed, as Bilbo already had a fork and was taking a taste of the salad. “That salad’s completely fat-free.”

            Bilbo stepped back, and said around the salad in his mouth, “Shut the fuck up! How is it this good _and_ it’s fat-free?!”

            Thorin smirked, pleased he had impressed. “That’s not mayonnaise; it’s made with fat-free Greek yogurt.”

            “Oh my God!” Bilbo reached in with the fork again and took a bigger sample. “It’s so fucking good!”

            “Thanks,” Thorin was really pleased. “I really worked at that recipe to perfect it.”

            “Well,” Bilbo said, taking another bite and replacing the lid. “Cucumbers are my favorite.”

            “I’m glad,” Thorin said with a smile. “That salad was Dis’—” Thorin froze; the salad has been Dis’ favorite and the last time he made it had been for her.

            Suddenly the last two months vanished and Thorin felt like he was standing on that rocky shore watching them place the flowered wreaths in the water. He felt the numbness return and he thought he couldn’t breathe, that he would break down and lose it.

            But just like the park, Bilbo was there; reaching out and placing a warm, comforting hand on Thorin’s arm, moving it up and down in a calm, soothing, rhythmic way. It was working.

            Thorin took a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he said.

            “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Bilbo said quietly.

            “When we lost Frerin, it was hard,” Thorin stated. “But we got through it. When our parents died, it was twice as hard, but again, we got through it. But ...”

            “But you had Dis,” Bilbo continued Thorin’s thought, softly. “You got each other through. That’s why Dis’ passing is so much harder for you; you have to go through it alone.”

            That wasn’t true and Thorin felt compelled to admit it. “No,” Thorin corrected. “I have you.”

            Bilbo just smiled and gave Thorin’s arm a squeeze; they both had each other.

            “Jesus,” Thorin sighed out a confession. “I really thought I had dealt with all this.”

            “One never really deals with it completely,” Bilbo pointed out. “You know that. It may be years later and we could be going along, minding our business; reading a book, watching a movie, driving in the car and passing places they went; or even just making a salad, and we pause as we remember them. It’s good to remember, Thorin. I’m just sorry that you’re sad. But given time, those memories will mellow into something fond to think of.”

            Thorin nodded; he knew Bilbo was right. He always was.

            “Thank you,” Thorin said, bestowing Bilbo with a small smile to show that he was better.

            “That’s what friends are for, Thorin,” Bilbo replied, returning Thorin’s smile. “I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

            “I’m always the one that needs you.” Thorin wasn’t bitter, but he did feel like he offered less to Bilbo than what he took from him.

            Bilbo seemed to know what Thorin was feeling. “I need you too, Thorin. Don’t think that I don’t.”

            “But I’m always the one calling you, it seems like.”

            “That’s not true,” Bilbo said softly as if he was confessing something. “I call you often when I am feeling low and thinking of Prim and Drogo.”

            Thorin was confused. “You call to say hello and chat; ask me about my day. You’ve never said anything about—”

            Bilbo looked away before answering. “When I remember, I don’t necessarily want to talk about the memories,” Bilbo turned to Thorin. “I usually just want to hear a friendly voice, to bring me back to the present.”

            “I’m glad you turn to me.” Thorin was, truly. “But if you’re feeling low, I want you to tell me. If you’re upset, I want to know.” Thorin hoped that didn’t come across as angry—alright, maybe he was a little angry—but Bilbo was his friend, his good friend, probably his best friend, and he felt like he needed to know.

            Bilbo wasn’t upset though. “All right; if you insist, then I’ll tell.”

            “Good,” Thorin said with a smug nod.

            Bilbo just laughed outright. “You’re ridiculous,” he said with a fond smile and sounding like he meant it quite the opposite.

            Thorin didn’t care either way; he liked getting his way.

            Suddenly, Bilbo stilled and tilted his head.

            “What’s the matter,” Thorin was instantly concerned.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo said, still concentrating on something. “It’s awfully quiet.”

            Thorin realized that Bilbo was right; the house was _very_ quiet; too quiet. Especially when one factored in that there were three, rambunctious, pre-teen boys in the house; or _should be_ in the house.

            “FILI AND KILI!” Thorin bellowed.

            No reply.

            “FRODO!” Bilbo called out.

            More silence.

            “I’ll check the back,” Thorin said turning.

            “I’ve got the front,” Bilbo said, taking off. Bilbo whipped open the front door and yelled, “FRODO! FILI! KILI!” No answer, except a disapproving look from old Mister Proudfoot across the street. _Piss off_ , Bilbo thought, closing the door.

            “Bilbo!” Thorin called out from the back of the house.

            Bilbo took off and found Thorin just outside the back door with three, very muddy, and contrite boys.

            “You know you shouldn’t leave the house without telling us!” Bilbo didn’t like being the bad cop, especially to Fili and Kili who he had no say over, but that didn’t mean he’d let them upset Thorin. And Frodo knew better.

            Both Fili and Kili looked shamed enough, but it was then that Bilbo noticed Frodo—who was carrying a large ginger cat who looked very disgruntled but resigned to being muddy itself and begin carried under its front legs by an equally muddy Frodo.

            “Do you have anything to say your uncle, little man?” Thorin’s stern voice, while not harsh, got Frodo’s attention. Frodo adored Thorin and sensed that maybe he had gone too far if the tall man was upset.

            “I was trying to save the kitty,” Frodo said, miserably and looking like he was on the verge of tears.

            Thorin was quicker than even Bilbo and knelt down to be equal with Frodo. “I’m sure that kitty would have been fine on its own,” Thorin said gently and Frodo relaxed a bit. Thorin addressed all the boys. “The three of you are filthy and you worried the two of us.”

            Bilbo had to hand it to Thorin; his calm, deep voice, was devoid of anger, but its firm tone spoke of disappointment. From their faces, Bilbo could guess that all three boys felt even worse.

            Okay, Bilbo thought, lesson learned. “Let’s get you in and cleaned up.”

            “Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said miserably. “Can I keep him?”

            Bilbo didn’t need to ask who ‘him’ was. “I’m sure he has a home already, Frodo.” The cat looked well fed, and Bilbo was almost positive that it belonged to the elderly lady who lived at the end of the street.

            “But he might die if I don’t save him,” Frodo said in a small voice, looking down at the cat in his arms.

            Oh dear.

            Thorin and Bilbo exchanged glances; this wasn’t just about saving a cat. This was about saving something when Frodo couldn’t save his parents. But how to handle this delicately was another story.

            “Tell you what,” Bilbo said. “Let’s put him in the utility room, for now, get you three cleaned up, then we can clean him up a little and see if we can’t find his home. If no one claims him,” Bilbo knew he would regret this, but fuck it, “then you can keep him.”

            Frodo brightened instantly and seemed to be okay with that. Bilbo might have caught Thorin’s smirky smile but he ignored it. Frodo cleaned up the fastest and rushed to clean up the cat while Fili and Kili finished. Thorin had brought a change of clothes for each already; this was certainly not the first time all three boys had gotten together and proceeded to wear half the backyard all over their clothes. Bilbo threw all the dirty things in the washer, which allowed him to check on the cat and Frodo.

            When everyone was clean, Bilbo walked down to the lady at the corner and, indeed, it was her cat. Frodo was disappointed but happy that ‘the kitty’ found his home.

            They had lunch, and the boys asked if they could watch Thor: The Dark World, which Bilbo was fine with. Thorin checked his phone and said that he had an email from Dwalin and had to run out quickly but would be back.

            They were half-way through the movie when Thorin returned, but he was not alone. Much to Frodo’s squealing delight, Thorin produced a tiny, British Blue kitty. Bilbo wasn’t sure if he should be angry or appreciative; Frodo was simply beside himself with joy.

            “Did you just go buy that cat?” Bilbo whispered to Thorin as they stood side by side, watching the boys play with the kitten.

            “No,” Thorin insisted. “I found it.”

            “You found it,” Bilbo said flatly.

            “Yes,” Thorin said, still not turning to look at Bilbo.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo said evenly. “That kitten is wearing a collar.” Even out the corner of his eyes, Bilbo could see Thorin blush.

            “I found him,” Thorin continued to insist.

            “You did not,” Bilbo asked, crossing his arms. But the smirk on his face said that he was having a hard time being mad.

            “I did,” Thorin said, before looking sheepishly at Bilbo. “I found him at the RSPCA.”

            Bilbo just laughed. “Well, I know for a fact that Fili and Kili had been asking about a puppy,” Bilbo countered with a playfully, evil grin. “Maybe I should go have a look over at the RSPCA myself.”

            “Too late,” Thorin whispered back. “I already picked one out; they’re holding it until Monday for me.”

            Bilbo just shook his head. He should be angry but there was no way he could be. Frodo was the happiest Bilbo has seen him in months and Fili and Kili would be over the moon come Monday. And really, Bilbo had been honest when he told Frodo he could keep the ginger cat if it didn’t have a home, so what was the harm. Besides, a funny, warm feeling was spreading in his chest; Thorin was so incredibly kind and sweet with Frodo.

            “So,” Bilbo said loudly, getting all the boys attention. “What are you going to name your kitty?”

            “Name him Loki!” Fili suggested.

            “No!” Kili shouted. “Call him Hawkeye!”

            “That’s stupid,” Fili complained.

            “No, it’s not!” Kili said, offended. “Cats are good hunters, just like an archer!”

            “It’s still stupid,” Fili said.

            “I know,” Frodo said softly, silencing everyone else. Frodo slowly turned his gaze upward to the man standing next to his uncle. “I’m going to name him Thorin.”

            If Thorin was blushing before, it was nothing compared to the near flame red spots that appeared on his cheeks. But his smile said that it was not from embarrassment.

            “Well,” Bilbo said, rescuing his friend from having to speak. “I think this house is big enough for two Thorins.”

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

            Bilbo was ready for bed.

            Thorin and his boys had stayed late, even staying for supper, but Bilbo was okay with that. Finally, when all three youngsters were winding down and nodding off, Thorin declared it was time to go. He thanked Bilbo again for helping him get through the loss of Dis and for not only helping the boys but being his friend. Bilbo said much the same to Thorin and told him that he was happy to help.

            Thorin also tried to apologize about the kitten, saying he knew he should have asked but he couldn’t stand to see how unhappy Frodo was. That statement alone melted whatever little irritation Bilbo might still have had; how could any man be angry at someone who cared so much?

            As Bilbo went through the house, turning off lights and checking doors, he chanced to peek in and check on Frodo. The boy was sound asleep on his side, the little blue kitten curled up against Frodo’s chest just under the boys’ chin. Both child and kitten were gently snoring, content to be in each other’s presence.

            Bilbo closed Frodo’s door and had to smile to himself at the sight of Frodo and his cat. A little thought, fleeting and barely-formed, flared in Bilbo’s mind, that he wouldn’t mind having a Thorin of his own to snuggle up to at night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines quoted by Bilbo and Thorin are from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2 (the balcony scene)
> 
> \-------------
> 
> If interested, here is the recipe for 'Thorin's' cucumber salad. http://laurendamarie.com/cucumber-radish-salad-yogurt-dill-dressing/
> 
> (I've made it - it's good! If you do make it with fat-free Greek Yogurt, I also add a splash of red-wine vinegar).


	4. A Time To Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin insists that he and Bilbo are just good friends ... it will take someone else to point out that, no, they're not

* * *

 

_**FIVE MONTHS AFTER MEETING** _

 

            “So,” Dwalin said standing in his kitchen, cutting up veggies for salad and taking a deep gulp of his beer. “When are you going to tell him?”

            Thorin didn’t know what Dwalin was talking about. “Tell who, what?”

            “Bilbo.”

            “Tell Bilbo, _what?!”_

“That you want to … you know,” Dwalin put a fake snarl on his face and thrust his hips back and forth. “Plow him like a fertile field.”

            Thorin choked on his own beer and almost spit it out. “ _What_?!”

            “You know! Fill his donut hole with your love cream.”

            “That’s disgusting.”

            “Have him ride your pink pony.”

            “Shut up, Dwalin.”

            “Play hide the meat sausage.”

            “Shut _. Up_.”

            “Plug your cord into his hot outlet.”

            “ _Shut. Up. NOW_!”

            “What?” Dwalin threw out his hands and shrugged; he really didn’t know what the problem was. “You know you want to.”

            “I don’t know any such thing!” Thorin insisted. “Bilbo and I are friends; that’s all; just friends.”

            “Bullshit,” Dwalin said, pointing a large kitchen knife at Thorin. “If Ori looked at me like Bilbo was looking at you at dinner last week, we’d _still_ be in bed!”

            Thorin shook his head; he should have known it would end up being a mistake introducing Bilbo to Dwalin. But there was no way around it really.

            Bilbo had been making comments for while that he wished he could go out sometimes with just adults. So, Thorin, being Bilbo’s friend he insisted, asked Balin if he would be willing to watch all three boys. Balin agreed; he loved Fili and Kili and ended up being so taken with Frodo, and vice-versa, that Bilbo felt comfortable leaving the boy with him. After that, Bilbo and Thorin had started going out more often. Thorin totally agreed with Bilbo, it was nice to get out and be around only adults for a change.

            However, Balin had mentioned watching the boys to Dori and made a mention about Bilbo. Dori, intrigued by Bilbo's appearance in Thorin’s life, told Nori, who, in turn, spoke with Ori, who then spilled it to Dwalin; leading Dwalin to call Thorin and demand to know just who the fuck was this ‘Baggins person’ that Thorin and his nephews had been spending so much time with?!

            Thorin hadn’t really told anyone about Bilbo. Not that he was ashamed; quite the opposite. Bilbo was his friend, his good friend—his best friend, he told himself—and frankly, he didn’t want to share Bilbo with others; especially his nosy cousins!

            But Dwalin had been persistent and Thorin just got tired of fighting it. So, about one month ago, only four months after meeting Bilbo, Thorin had given in to the demands of his knob-headed cousin and asked Bilbo if he had any interest in meeting Dwalin and his husband, Ori. Thorin had hoped Bilbo would say no, but for some odd reason, Bilbo had seemed really excited about it.

            Great.

            The first time the four of them had gone out, it was too a restaurant. Thorin figured it would be a good neutral territory. Naturally, Dwalin began asking all sorts of personal questions about Bilbo’s background and family, where he’d gone to school, what he did for a living that allowed him to  _not_ have a proper job. Luckily Ori reined Dwalin back in before Thorin throttled him, although, strangely, Bilbo laughed it all off, answered all the questions and actually told Thorin afterward that he liked Dwalin’s directness and Ori’s charm, and stated he liked them very much and hoped he would get to see them again.

            Well, he got his wish.

            The next dinner together was at Bag End and then twice after that, Thorin and Bilbo went to Dwalin and Ori’s home. Each time they met, Dwalin became more relaxed around Bilbo, Bilbo became more outspoken with Dwalin, and it was clear to Thorin and Dwalin that Bilbo and Ori were quickly becoming friends in their own right.

            Now, sitting in Dwalin and Ori’s kitchen, listening to Dwalin make the most disgusting and inappropriate comments regarding Bilbo, Thorin not only regretted introducing Bilbo to his extended family, he regretting _having_ extended family in the first place.

            “I’m telling you, Dwalin,” Thorin said firmly. “Bilbo and I get together because the boys are good friends, he and I have helped each other through the deaths of Dis and his cousins, and we enjoy hanging out together, but we’re just good friends.”

            “Bullshit,” Dwalin stated.

            “What’s bullshit,” Ori said sweetly as he walked into the kitchen and proceeded to give his burly husband a kiss on the cheek.

            “Thorin’s insistence that he and Bilbo are _just_ good friends.”

            “Ori,” Thorin stated, ignoring Dwalin. “Tell your husband he’s delusional!”

            “Thorin,” Ori turned and level Thorin with an amused glare. “You’re delusional.”

            “Not me; _him_!” Thorin said pointing at Dwalin, who looked smug with his husband’s agreement.

            “You’re the one who’s delusional,” Dwalin said. “You use the boys as an excuse to be around him. Hell, you look for _any_ excuse to be around him!”

            “Oh, sod off!” Thorin threw back. “We go out now and then, that doesn’t mean anything!” _Right?_ It didn’t mean Thorin wanted more. _Not that more with Bilbo would be bad or wrong or … we’re just friends. Just friends._

            “Do you get dressed up?” Dwalin asked. “Do you ask him where he wants to go? Do you take him there? Don’t you bring him flowers?”

            “Bilbo likes flowers,” Thorin countered starting to feel a bit warm. “And I take them over there because it’s polite when you visit someone’s home! And yes, I wear nice clothes when we go out, that’s what normal people do, Dwalin! Hell, you did it with Ori when you first met him!”

            “Yeah! But I didn’t kid myself; I knew right off I wanted to fuck him!”

            “Thank you for that, dear,” Ori said dryly, but clearly not angry.

            “You know what I mean,” Dwalin said softly, before planting a kiss on Ori’s forehead.

            “Look,” Thorin continued, “as far as Bilbo and I are concerned, we’re … we’re friends. And yes, I ask him where he would like to go because you know it doesn’t matter to me.”

            “Ah, but you know very well it matters _to him_ ,” Dwalin shot back. “And that’s all that’s important.”

            “You’re reading into it,” Thorin said. _Why were his hands getting sweaty?_ “We’re _friends_! That’s all! And, by the way, don’t you fucking _dare_ bring this shit up with Bilbo the next time you see him, or so help me—”

            “Thorin,” Ori said gently, effectively silencing both men. He sat in front of Thorin and took both of his hands in his own; he wanted Thorin’s undivided attention. “This ... relationship ... between you and Bilbo, may have started out as simply playdates for the boys. It may have evolved into a friendship that, at the time, was needed and, frankly, beautiful. It may have even gone on to the point where you two were best friends—”

            “We are best friends,” Thorin said quietly but he felt like something inside him was breaking down; like a wall was crumbling.

            “Thorin,” Ori said with a soft smile, “you've grown far beyond that description now.”

            Thorin didn't have an answer to that, he was starting to have trouble breathing in.

            “And tell me,” Ori continued, “when was the last week you didn’t pop by Bilbo’s house at least once, if not twice, just to take him to lunch? _’_ ”

            “I’m in the neighborhood,” Thorin insisted, wanting to deny Ori’s train of thought.

            “But he lives on the other side of town from your office.”

            “I have clients on that side of town.”

            “Funny, isn't it, how in the last few months you’ve ended up having so many clients that you need to see in person, when before you used to conduct most of your meetings on the phone or via the computer.”

            “I’ve been out recruiting new business,” Thorin stated.

            Ori nodded. “So Gloin told Dwalin; you have been very busy the last three months, securing bigger, better clients.”

            “Businesses are always in need of a good accounting firm.”

            “Of course they are. But from what Gloin stated, it seems that most of the clients you have recruited recently have been on Bilbo’s side of town.”

            Once again, Thorin had no answer. He hadn’t thought about it—not consciously anyway.

            “And because your business is growing, didn’t you make statements to Balin that you were thinking that it might be time to look for new office space?”

            “Yes,” Thorin figured they needed more space because of all the new accounts.

            “Do I have to ask if you have only looked at office space on Bilbo’s side of town?”

            “Well, most of my accounts are—” Thorin stilled at Ori’s growing smile.

            “Seems there's a great deal going on over on that side of town,” Ori added. “Not to mention, Bilbo lives in a very big house.”

            “That was Bilbo’s parent’s house; naturally he is going to live there.”

            “Granted,” Ori conceded. “But _you_ don’t have to stay in Dis’ old house, which, like your current offices, are on the opposite side of the city as Bilbo. And speaking of Bilbo's house, he told me his father built it for his mother, who wanted lots of kids; which they never had. So Bilbo lives in a huge house, just him and his nephew; a house with five bedrooms, two guest rooms, and a gigantic backyard; a house that could very easily accommodate two adult males with three young boys, along with a cat and a large dog. But then, you know that on some level; don’t you?”

            Thorin felt it hard to swallow all of a sudden. “Ori,” Thorin got out finally, “I’m his friend … we’re just—”

            “As horrible as it sounds,” Ori pressed on, “Friends can walk away from each other. But ... could you walk away from Bilbo?"

            _No, Thorin could never do that. Never._

But Ori wasn’t done. “Or better yet, what if Bilbo were to suddenly walk out of your life? How would you feel about that?”

            “I'd feel—” Thorin stilled as the words flooded his heart; _devastated, hurt, saddened, hollow, small, miserable, depressed, lost, alone, abandoned … dead.  Because I would die inside._

            Thorin just stared at Ori, because it was all laughably clear; he knew now.  As Ori already did.

            “Tell me,” Ori asked with a knowing smile, “How do you feel about Bilbo?”

            Thorin took a deep breath and confessed. “I love him.”

            Ori nodded, released Thorin’s hands, stood up and looked at Dwalin. “Now, that’s how it’s done.”

            Dwalin held up his hands. “I surrender to the greater power.”

            Ori and Dwalin laughed, but Thorin felt stunned. “How could I have not seen this before?”

            “You’re a fool,” Dwalin quipped.

            “He’s _not_ a fool!” Ori said strongly. He went back to Thorin and place a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, drawing Thorin’s attention once more. “You have lost so much; both of you have. Honestly, I think you each have been so afraid to lose what you have together, that you've focused on protecting this connection between you.  And that's fine, but because of that, you've both failed to see it change to something so much deeper.”

            “I need to see him,” Thorin said.  "I have to talk to him."

            “Yes,” Ori said as Dwalin nodded behind him. “I think it's past due.”

            Suddenly the room was filled with the cheery sound of Pharrell Williams’ _‘Happy’_ and Thorin’s face drained of color.

            Dwalin smirked. “Do I even have to fucking guess whose ringtone that is?”

            Thorin reached into his back pocket and took out his phone; no he didn’t need to see who it was. “Hey, Bil.”

            “Hi!” Bilbo said brightly and loud enough that Ori and Dwalin could hear his voice. “What are you doing?”

            “Uhm …” Thorin wasn’t sure what to say. “Just hanging out with Dwalin and Ori.”

            Ori grimaced and Dwalin looked like he was going to punch something.

            “Oh,” Bilbo sounded disappointed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

            “You’re not!” Thorin said quickly. “In fact … I was just …”

            Ori was pointing at the door empathically.

            “… I was just leaving.” Thorin finished.

            “You were?” Bilbo sounded bright again. “Well, in that case, have you any plans for dinner?”

            Thorin looked at all the food on the counter and plates on the table. “Nope. I haven’t eaten all day, as a matter of fact.” _If you don’t count breakfast,_ Thorin thought. _Or the burgers the boys and I grabbed for lunch or the huge pile of chips we shared before coming back here._

            “That’s not good for you, Thorin,” Bilbo chastised gently. “But I can remedy that.”

            “Really,” Thorin smiled. “How’s that.”

            “Grab the boys and get over here, I have a little surprise.”

            “Okay,” Thorin said. “See you in about …” Thorin glanced at his watch. “Twenty?”

            “Sounds great,” Bilbo replied. “See you then.”

            “Yeah, see you,” Thorin rang off and just stared at Dwalin and Ori.

            There was silence for a few seconds before Dwalin cocked an eyebrow and smirked at Thorin. “Pharrell Williams’, ‘ _Happy_?’”

            Ori smacked Dwalin in the arm. “It’s cute; shut up.”

            Thorin took a few breaths to clear his head and then launched himself out of his chair. He threw open the door to the backyard and called out, “BOYS! COME INSIDE, WE’RE LEAVING!” Then turned back to Ori and gestured to the kitchen and all the food. “I’m sorry about—”

            “Fuck dinner,” Ori said, waving Thorin off. “Go get your guy!”

            Thorin couldn’t help but smile at that as his nephew came bouncing in with their dog. It hit Thorin suddenly that Kili and Fili had insisted on naming the boxer puppy, Billy. _Add that to the list of obvious things as well,_ he thought.

            “We’re leaving?” Fili asked confused.

            “Yes. Go get our jackets,” Thorin stated.

            “I thought we were eating dinner here?” Kili questioned.

            “We were but Bilbo invited us over just now.”

            “We’re going to see Mister Bilbo?!” Kili look like he was going start jumping up and down.

            “Yes.”

            “YEAH!” both Fili and Kili shouted, Kili actually doing a little cheer.

            “Great to see we’re so loved,” Dwalin threw out dryly but was obviously not upset.

            “Sorry Uncle Dwalin,” Fili said as he shrugged on his jacket.

            “Yeah, sorry Uncle Dwalin, Uncle Ori,” Kili added. “But we have to go. I mean ... it’s Mister Bilbo!” Kili clearly thought that was explanation enough.

            “We get it, kid,” Dwalin stated, giving Thorin a smug smile.

            Fili and Kili gave Dwalin and Ori hugs goodbye and ran off to the car with Billy the Boxer hot on their heels. Thorin gave Dwalin their customary good-bye gesture; a punch in the arm, before pulling Ori into a tight hug, giving the smaller man a kiss on the cheek then whispering, “Thank you.”

            “Call us tomorrow,” Ori said as he pulled back. “Both of you.”

            Thorin smiled and made for the car. Not for the first time, the world seemed brighter and more beautiful, only this time Thorin knew exactly who the reason was for that.

 

 

 


	5. A Time To Love - Part 1

* * *

 

 

 

            Thorin had no idea at all what he was going to say. He envisioned scenario after scenario in his mind and each one sounded worse than the last; from simply outright confessing (Dis’ favored approach), to playing little riddles (Bilbo loved riddles but Thorin had to admit, he was even more rubbish at them than cooking!)

            _“Don’t be ridiculous, Thorin!”_

            He thought about following Ori’s lead and presenting Bilbo with all the fact as to how obvious it was that they belonged together; it was logical really. But he shot that down—using ‘logic’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence made it sound like it was some sort of algorithm.

            _“All you to do is open your mouth and say it!”_

Thorin contemplated just taking Bilbo aside, telling the boys to go out to the back garden and play, and then, on bended knee, confess to Bilbo that he was mad for him and wanted to explore a relationship with him, a life really, because now the idea of living a life without Bilbo by his side was a life that couldn’t be imagined at all, it was no life to live because Bilbo was the moon and stars to him and he would rather die than— _Good job, Durin … scare the shite out him while your at it._

None of it sounded right, and all the while he could hear Dis’ voice inside his head during one of their many discussions regarding his non-existent love life.

 

            _“It’s not rocket science, brother dear,” Dis said with a smirk._

_“It’s not that easy either!” Thorin insisted._

_“Of course it is!” Dis persisted in her line of thought. “Look, gay men are not that much different than women—”_

_“I beg to differ!”_

_"—so I will let you in on a little secret. While all that flowers and candies and drippy music stuff is great; it’s not needed! You only need to tell him, honestly, that you love him. That’s it.”_

_“That’s it; just ‘I love you’ and that’s all I need to say?” Thorin was unbelieving._

_“That and … snog him.”_

_Thorin shook his head, he almost laughed. “That won’t work.”_

_“Yes it will! I’m telling you; a guy that likes you will only need a simple, true confession, of love and a well timed, heart-felt, knock-your-socks off snog, to be claimed.”_

_“But the problem is, you never know if they other guy likes you too! What if he rejects the offer of love?”_

_“Well,” Dis shrugged, “At least you got a good snog out of it.”_

Even in his memories, Dis was no help. He couldn’t just say it—Bilbo deserved so much more than that! He needed to be romanced and treated carefully and, and—Thorin wanted to give Bilbo his heart, didn’t that mean Thorin should show more effort than, ‘ _Hey, I love you, let’s get naked._ ’ That might have worked for Dwalin—although, now that Thorin thought about it, he kind of remembered Dwalin saying that he didn’t need to say much of anything to get him and Ori naked—but Thorin wasn’t Dwalin and, as nice as Ori was, Bilbo was not Ori. Bilbo was—he was—

            Bilbo was perfection. Nothing short of that could be considered.

            Yet, while he had no clue what to do at this point, Thorin did know one thing; this night could not end without him telling Bilbo—somehow—that he was so much more than just a friend to Thorin. That the mere thought of Bilbo brightened him; like watching sunshine break through grey rain clouds. That his touch soothed his pain and his voice calmed his heart. That—that he loved him.

            Oh how those words, even when silently said in his mind, filled him with so much joy; so much so, that Thorin felt giddy and lightheaded. He wanted to shout it out, he wanted to tell everyone he met, wanted the whole world to know! He wanted to take Bilbo in his arms; he wanted to hold him close and feel his body pressed against him; he wanted to gather up the warmth that was Bilbo and never let him go. He wanted to kiss him and— _wait a minute_.

            What if Dwalin and Ori were wrong?

            What if it was only _Thorin_ that felt this way?

            Ori didn’t point out that Bilbo felt anything—only Thorin! Dwalin was the only one that thought Bilbo felt anything, and his only evidence was how Bilbo had looked at Thorin at dinner—after a full, heavy meal and several glasses of wine! Christ, with all that, Bilbo might have looked at the _waiter_ with love!

            What if Bilbo didn’t want anything other than a close friendship? What if— _oh God_ —what if Ori’s comments on friendship being easy to walk away from, turned out to be more a prophesy, and Bilbo simply—walked away—disappointed or repulsed by Thorin’s unwanted confession of love? What if by this time tomorrow, Thorin really was without Bilbo Baggins in his life?

 _Jesus FUCKING Christ!_ Thorin thought _, What if I tell him, but he finds it ludicrous and decides that he doesn’t want anything more to do with—_

            The blast of a car horn startled Thorin back to his self; he’d let his mind wander while sitting at the stop light.

            “Are you all right, Uncle Thorin?” Fili asked, sitting next to Thorin in the front and giving his uncle a cocked eyebrow.

            “Yeah,” Thorin smiled, hiding his problems. “I’m … I’m fine. Fine.”

            “You don’t _look_ fine,” Fili commented.

            Thorin sighed, a little irritated. “I look the way I’m supposed to look!”

            “Sure,” Fili said with smirk, “if you’re supposed to look like a catatonic mental patient.”

            “Cata—” Thorin started to sputter. “How the _hell_ do you even know that word?!”

            “I’m not stupid, Uncle Thorin,” Fili said, having already returned to playing Angry Birds on his iPad. “Besides, I’m _almost_ thirteen, you know.”

            Thorin fought an eye-roll. Fili’s birthday was in three weeks, and the boy had been using the _“I’m almost thirteen”_ as an excuse for everything.

            “What’s … cata … cata- _tronic_ , mean?” Kili asked from the backseat.

            For most of the remaining care ride, Fili attempted to explain catatonic to Kili, until Thorin finally had to order an end to the conversation because the boys had descended into name-calling when Fili failed at his attempts and Kili just didn’t understand.

            As he had promised Bilbo, it took Thorin just under twenty minutes to arrive at Bag End. Of course, that didn’t count the long, extra minutes he sat in the car, staring at the front of the house, wondering what he would find inside; a warm reception or a cold refusal. In fact, he sat there so long he was roused from his musings by the sight of Bilbo standing in the front doorway, looking very perplexed at Thorin.

            _Nothing for it,_ Thorin thought. _It’s now or never._

And never was just _not_ an option; Thorin always said, he may be scared of some things, but he was no coward. Time to have courage.

            “Aren’t we going to get out, Uncle Thorin?” Fili asked.

            “I thought we came here to eat?” Kili commented.

            “Yeah, we did,” Thorin said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s go.” Kili needed no further instructions and was out of the car with Billy and heading towards the front door before Thorin had even reached for his door-handle.

            “Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Fili asked with a narrowed look.

            “Of course,” Thorin said a little more snarly than needed. “I’m fine.”

            “That’s what you said earlier,” Fili said dryly. “You _still_ don’t look fine to me; you look weird.”

            “Well … I’m an adult,” Thorin said, opening the car door. “We’re supposed to look weird.”

            “Maybe, but your _acting_ weird too,” Fili said, mimicking his uncle and getting out.

            “I’m not _acting_ anything,” Thorin growled lowly.

            “So you’re just naturally weird?” Fili snarked.

            “Oh … ha, ha, ha,” Thorin said sarcastically, while Fili snickered and took off to greet Bilbo. As Thorin approached, he watched Bilbo greet each of his nephews, pulling them into tight hugs filled with warmth and affection. It never ceased to amaze Thorin that his famously, mischievous nephews, had practically adored Bilbo, right from the start.

            And now that he thought on it, Frodo had taken to him quickly too. Thorin remembered the shy, grief-stricken boy, clinging to Bilbo’s side and had felt something for him right then. Like Bilbo and his nephews, Thorin and Frodo had a bond that was undeniable; Thorin simply adored that boy.

            _Christ on a cross,_ Thorin mused, _why hadn’t I seen_ that _as the first sign that there was something special between Bilbo and me?_

            “Why were you just sitting in the car?” Bilbo asked as he broke his hug with Fili and turned to greet Thorin.

            “Sorry about that,” Thorin said with a smile he hoped didn’t look too forced. “I was just … distracted; thinking about … work.”

            “Everything all right?” Bilbo asked.

            “Fine,” Thorin insisted. “Everything’s just fine.”

            Bilbo didn’t say anything for a minute and Thorin was starting to feel a prickling feeling move down his spine, before Bilbo finally let it go.

            “Well, keep your jackets on,” Bilbo said, “We’re invited out.”

            “We are?” Thorin hadn’t expected that!

            “Where are we going?” Fili asked confused.

            “What about Billy?” Kili clearly concerned.

            “We’re going to a friend’s house,” Bilbo said to Fili before turning to the younger Durin. “And Billy has been welcomed to join us.” Bilbo then turned back to shout into the house, “FRODO!”

            “COMING!” Frodo yelled back and Thorin then heard the pounding of Frodo’s footsteps on the stairs. “I’m ready, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo spotted Thorin and, with wide eyes, made a leap for the tall man. “Mister Thorin!”

            Thorin couldn’t stop the grin spread over his face. “Hey, little man.” Thorin caught Frodo and gave him a tight hug and rubbed his beard on Frodo’s cheek to make him squeal; it was their game.

            “Okay then!” Bilbo said in a chirper voice, locking the front door as Thorin put Frodo down so that the youngster could greet Fili and Kili.

            “Where we going?!” Kili asked as Frodo linked arms with both boys and pulled them along.

            “To Sam’s house!” Frodo said with a huge grin, as the other two boys cheered and they all started to run ahead with Billy running along on his leash.

            Thorin had met young Sam Gamgee when the sandy-haired boy had come over to play during some of the boy’s play-dates. He was very polite and well mannered, although, for some odd reason, seemed almost terrified of Thorin. It was a bit amusing and Thorin had to admit—if only to Bilbo—that he loved to stand there and look imposing just to get a rise out of the young boy. However, he thought the youngster a good influence and actually encouraged his being around his nephews and Frodo.

            But why were they going to Sam’s house for dinner? This had _so_ not been his plan at all! Thorin wanted to get Bilbo alone, not share him! There would be no way to chat Bilbo up and tell him his feelings if they were surrounded by strangers, and in said stranger’s house no less!

            _God Dammit!_

            At the moment though, Thorin couldn’t complain too much; Bilbo’s hand kept brushing against his as they walked close and that warm feeling that Thorin had thinking of Bilbo was slowly spreading through him. As torturous it was for Thorin, what with Bilbo unaware of how he was affecting his ‘friend’, Thorin had no desire for it to end.

            “So,” Thorin asked in a low voice so only Bilbo could hear, “why are we going to the Gamgee’s for dinner?”

            “So they boys can play,” Bilbo whispered, conspiratorially. “And Sam has two young sisters as well, so that is a total of six children.”

            “And that means … what?” The tone in Bilbo’s voice made Thorin think he had some ulterior motive, but Thorin couldn’t see it.

            “It means,” Bilbo said quietly, so that the boys wouldn’t overhear. “That six young kids and a puppy will lead to three extremely tired boys and a tuckered out dog early in the evening, which further equates to two grown adults having the remainder of the evening to themselves!”

            Bilbo laughed but Thorin was amazed; it was perfect! If they could get the boys to crash early, then he could chat with Bilbo without the fear of interruption! Brilliant!

            “You’re a sneaky bugger!” Thorin was impressed and not afraid to show it. “How did you manage to bring this all about?”

            “That was easy,” Bilbo said with a smug smile. “Bell, Sam’s mother, has been hearing about the Oakes boys from young Sam for some time now. She has wanted to meet them and you, and when she called and invited us to dine with them tonight, I figured Bell could meet the boys, we can run the boys ragged, and then have an adult night right at home without having to go out!”

            Thorin truly was amazed, but a few things fired up Thorin’s imagination. Bilbo said that Bell Gamgee had wanted to meet the boys _and him_. Had Bilbo been talking about him to her and she therefore wanted to meet the man Bilbo has been nattering on about? Also, Bilbo had said adult night ‘at home’; did that mean that Bilbo thought of Bag End as their home—together? Like Ori had mentioned?

            A part of Thorin was thrilled to think such things; while another, darker part told him it was all in his head, just fantasies, it was nothing and he should just forget—

            _Okay?_

            “What?!” Thorin hadn’t realized he zoned out.

            “I asked if you were okay,” Bilbo repeated, sounding concerned.

            “Yep,” Thorin said, not meeting Bilbo’s gaze. “Totally fine.”

            “He’s been acting weird ever since we left Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Ori’s,” Fili said over his shoulder.

            “You … just … mind your business!” Thorin shouted back at Fili.

            Fili shook his head but went back to chatting with Frodo and Kili.

            “You _sure_ you’re okay?” Bilbo asked quietly.

            “Yeah,” Thorin said. “Totally fine.” Thorin wondered if it sounded as fake to Bilbo as it did to himself!

            Bilbo was quiet for a few long moments before saying, “You know, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

            “No!” Thorin said a little too loudly. “It’s perfectly—”

            “We can always just tell Bell that you aren’t feeling well and do this some other—”

            “No. No. They are already expecting us,” Thorin insisted. “It would be rude to cancel now.” _Besides, I need to fucking get you alone for ten minutes! TEN MINUTES, that’s all I need … I hope._

Now—all he had to do was get through dinner!

 

 

 


	6. A Time To Love - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's POV

* * *

 

 

            Bilbo Baggins slowly groaned himself awake; _where the hell am I?_ As the fog of sleep slowly receded and his eyes adjusted in the near-total darkness, he learned the answer to his question; he was laying on his own bed, in only his undershirt and boxers, but instead of being under the covers, he was laying on top of them and he was enveloped in the old quilt that was usually folded up at the foot of his bed.

            He now knew the where but that was all he knew at the moment.

            _How the hell did I—_

            The night rushed back at him and he glanced at the clock by the bed; three ten in the morning. Bilbo groaned again, but this time, it was not a groan of waking but of stupidity; he had fucked up all of Bell’s plans.

            _Great. Just Great, Baggins; just bloody marvelous!_

            Thorin probably thought him a complete wanker now.

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

            The day before had been completely normal. That is, if normal was where Bilbo moped all day long like a dejected flower.   He had gotten up and made breakfast; _boring._ He cleaned around the house a bit; _really boring._ Re-potted a few herbs he had in containers; _utterly boring._ Tried to finish writing his latest article for his blog; _worthless, boring crap._    He had to face facts and be honest with himself; When Thorin and the boys weren’t around, life was dull, boring and pointless. _Okay maybe not pointless but it sure as hell felt that way._

Thorin wasn’t coming over. It was the first Saturday in recent memory where they weren’t going to be together— _No. No, not together … just not … together; in the same house … or the same place. That’s all._

            Bilbo understood; he had not ownership of Thorin or his time. And Thorin was close to his cousin Dwalin. Bilbo got it. He was Thorin’s friend, they were friends, that was it; nothing more. Friends. He had no right to Thorin’s time, his life, and definitely not his person. Thorin needed a friend; not a leach.

            But that didn’t mean Bilbo was happy about not seeing Thorin; in fact, miserable would be closer to the truth; if Bilbo was into admitting the truth that is.

Frodo didn’t sense anything wrong with his uncle; _of course, not, he had his Thorin._ Boy and kitten were inseparable, and regardless of what people said, even though Bilbo was the one to feed the creature, little Thorin only had eyes for Frodo and that was it. _Just like the utterly gorgeous man he’s named after!_

            Eventually, Bilbo became bored with himself and his damn moping and decided to go visit Bell Gamgee. She had been a dear friend of his mother’s, although she was younger than Belladonna; the shared profession of motherhood drawing them together. She had known Bilbo since he was a small boy and, as he matured; they became good friends in their own right. Bilbo provided a much needed _adult_ relief for Bell, and Bell, in turn, offering sage advice that Belladonna Baggins would have been the first to offer Bilbo had she still been alive.

            So, it was only natural that Bell saw right through him.

            “You need to get off that high horse you’re on,” Bell said, moving about the kitchen with the grace of a ballerina, “and tell that man you’re in love with him!”

            Bilbo almost snorted his tea up his nose! “Bell!”

            “What?”

            “Don’t blurt it out like that when I'm drinking!”

            Bell gave him a very unsympathetic look.

            Bilbo put a hand to nose and drew it back to look at it. “I think I burned the inside of my face.”

            “You’ll live,” Bell said, waving off Bilbo’s concern for his face.

            “You’re a cruel woman, Bell Gamgee,” Bilbo said, tentatively taking another sip of tea.

            “What I am,” Bell said, taking her own seat across from Bilbo. “In a word, is sick and tired of your messing about.”

            Bilbo gave Bell a sly smile and said, sarcastically, “That’s more than one word.”

            “Don’t get fresh with me,” Bell barked out. “And _don’t_ change the subject.”

            Bilbo knew he was losing this conversation.

            “You have been in love with Thorin for so long now, that I can barely remember when you _weren’t_ in love with him.”

            “That’s a bit of an overstatement; we’ve only known each other for five months.”

            “Known personally, yes. But I have known you for most of your life, Bilbo Baggins, and don’t you sit there and tell me that Thorin isn’t everything you have ever dreamed of.”

            Bilbo opened his mouth, but his protested died on the spot. Yes, Bell knew him all too well, apparently. Thorin was, indeed, perfection.

            Bell wasn’t finished. “Since you met him, we haven’t had a conversation where his name doesn’t come up,—”

            “We’re friends,” Bilbo stated quietly; but it sounded like an excuse even to him.

            “—you are always going on with, ‘Thorin said’, or ‘Thorin did’, or ‘Thorin mentioned’, or ‘Thorin suggested.’ Every other sentence is Thorin.”

            Again Bilbo wanted to protest but he knew better; Bell was right.

            Bilbo took a deep breath and sighed. “I can’t tell him,” he said in a rather defeated voice.

            Bell reached across the table and took one of Bilbo’s hands in her own. “You can and you should.”

            Bilbo just shook his head. “No Bell. Thorin has enough on his plate.”

            “Doesn’t everyone?”

            “Look, Thorin lost his sister, the last living member of his immediate family—”

            “You’re alone too.”

            “—he is raising not one but two young boys—”

            “You could raise your boys together.”

            “—his business is growing and expanding—”

            “You’re making excuses, Bilbo.”

            “—he doesn’t need someone to stretch his time and energy even thinner.”

            “Shouldn’t that be his decision?”

            “He doesn’t need someone being a burden.”

            “Love is never a burden, Bilbo Baggins.”

            “Bell! Would you just listen to me?!”

            “I have. And I think it’s time you listen to me,” Bell held up a hand to silence Bilbo before he could spout any more nonsense. But she continued on in a gentle voice. “You aren’t just having Saturday play-dates for the boys anymore. You don’t have get togethers to sooth a wounded heart. He takes you out to dinner, he drops by and takes you to lunch, he calls you on the phone—”

            “He needs a friend,” Bilbo added quietly.

            “No Bilbo. He needs you.”

            Bilbo had no response to that.

            “And,” Bell added with a small smile. “Unless I am very much mistaken, you need him.”

            Yes, Bilbo did need Thorin. So very much.

            “Admit it, Bilbo. You love Thorin, don’t you?”

            Bilbo drew breath to say that he wasn’t, that they were just friends, best friends, and that he if he loved Thorin as one friend loves another. So of course, he said, “Yes. I love him.”

            Bell sat back and looked like a cat that got the cream.   “Now, you have to tell _him_.”

            “I can’t do that,” Bilbo said.

            “We are not having this conversation over,” Bell stated. “You will tell him; call him now.”

            Bilbo was indignant. “I’m not telling him over the phone!” Thorin was no coward; therefore Bilbo wouldn’t be one either. If he was going to do this, it would be to Thorin’s face. “I just have to find a time when I can get him alone.”

            “What about his cousin, the one that watches the boys when you go out? Can he take them tonight?”

            “You mean Balin; and no, he and Dori are going to the opera tonight.”

            Bell nodded; the wheels turning. “What about those cousins of his that you go with?”

            “Dwalin and Ori; and I have no idea what their plans are, but I can tell you, Dwalin is away during the week, so weekends are for themselves and … let’s just say they are _very_ attached.”

            Bell laughed. “Gotcha.”

            Bilbo sighed in frustration and that meant he was getting snarky. “I guess I could tell him in the middle of the night when the boys are all asleep!”

            Bell sat up at that. “Asleep you say."  The wheels in Bell's head were turning.  "How about an evening to yourselves with them asleep?”

            Bilbo laughed at that. “Right! You try getting Fili, Kili and Frodo to all go to bed before eleven! Good luck with that.”

            A sly smile spread over Bell’s lips. “I have six children, three of which are young and overly energetic. We don’t need luck.”

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

            _OH God!_ He was really going to do this?!

            _Just stay calm; act normal; it’s no big_ _deal. Everything is just … fine; dandy really. Just call Thorin and invite him to dinner and let Bell and the kids do the rest; easy. Right—easy._

            Bell assured him that it would work, so what was there to fear?

            _Failure. Total and utter failure and loss of your best friend; the greatest guy you’ve ever met and your dream man to boot._

_Yeah, there was that._

But there was no backing out now. It was all set and Sam was so excited to have company; it had been adorable to see Sam jump up and down.

            _Okay, just dial Thorin and act cool; calm; collected._

            The phone rang only once before Thorin picked up.

            “Hey, Bil.”

            “Hi!” Bilbo said with a little too much cheer in his voice. _CHRIST! Get a grip, Baggins!_ “What are you doing?”

            “Uhm … Just hanging out with Dwalin and Ori.”

            “Oh.” _Fuck; of course he’s still busy; he’s Thorin, he has a life. Only I’m the pathetic loser without one._ “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

            “You’re not! In fact … I was just … I was just leaving.”

            “You were?” Bilbo was thrilled. “Well, in that case, have you any plans for dinner?” _Please say no, please!_

            “Nope. I haven’t eaten all day, as a matter of fact.”

            “That’s not good for you, Thorin,” Bilbo shook his head. _Poor man never takes care of himself._ “But I can remedy that.” _For the rest of our lives if you give me a chance._

            “Really; how’s that?”

            “Grab the boys and get over here, I have a little surprise.” _Actually a huge surprise that may cost me your friendship … but who’s keeping score._

            “Okay. See you in about … twenty?”

            “Sounds great,” Bilbo replied hoping Thorin didn’t hear the over-excitement in his voice. “See you then.”

            “Yeah, see you,”

            Bilbo fidgeted himself into a right state, until he decided he needed something to calm himself. Pouring a glass of wine felt right. Then the second one felt good too. He was just about to have a third one when he realized it was probably not a great idea to get tipsy too soon.

            That was also about the time that he realized that there was a car sitting in the driveway but no one getting out. He opened the front door and stood there, staring at Thorin just … sitting in the car. _Is he okay? God, did he know something was off?_ Finally, Thorin seemed to shake himself awake and exited the car.

            Bilbo greeted the boys and then Thorin, who seemed distracted. In fact, all the way to the Gamgee’s he seemed distracted but Thorin had insisted that it was work. Bilbo could believe that; the poor man had been working himself ragged the last several weeks with work. In fact, Bilbo understood why Thorin had been dropping by for lunch so often; the guy needed a break. Bilbo was pleased to offer that to Thorin but he has secretly wished that Thorin was coming just to see him.

            The meal was fantastic; Bell’s lasagna. It had been her idea that it was heavy enough to put Thorin in a relaxed mood but not so heavy as to cause sleep. Sadly that is what happened to Bilbo. By the time they went back to Bag End, as Thorin affectionately called Bilbo’s place, Bilbo had had two more glasses of wine plus the food.

            The boys did indeed, crap out early. The suggestion was that Fili and Kili could just stay over if need be and so, in the second floor guest room, they got out sleeping bags and let the boys watch a movie and Bilbo, trying to get sleep to come sooner, made home-made cocoa, with warm milk. That did it. Within an hour of returning, the boys were all asleep along with the dog and the kitten.

            Bilbo and Thorin ended up on the couch; having a bit more wine. They talked about Thorin's work; Thorin asked about Bilbo’s latest short that was due to be published in The New Yorker. Bilbo asked how Thorin’s clients were coming along and was glad to hear that he had secured a few more clients—and so close to Bag End too! Bilbo was thrilled to hear this because it meant more lunches and more time to be together but he tried not to let Thorin know how much that excited him.

            It was all so comfort and lovely and Bilbo had started out to have every intention of finally telling Thorin the whole truth.

            But that clearly hadn’t happen.

            Now Bilbo rolled over and sat on the edge of his bed. He could see his clothes in the rumpled pile on the floor and it wasn’t hard to surmise what had happened. Bilbo had gotten relaxed enough to fall asleep; Thorin, being the gentleman that he was, had led him upstairs; and put him to bed. And the clothes pile told Bilbo that, in his daze, he had stripped himself down to his underwater— _RIGHT IN FRONT OF THORIN!_

            Bilbo wanted to kick himself, he not only didn’t tell Thorin his feelings, but he had now embarrassed himself and probably Thorin and God only knew what Thorin thought of him at this point. Bilbo could only sigh; there was nothing for it now.

            He got up and went to check on Frodo. He was sure that Thorin had probably gathered up Fili and Kili and gone home. _Of course he had._ And, knowing Thorin, he probably put Frodo in his bed. First stop, Frodo’s room.

            But Frodo wasn’t there.

            Heading to the upstairs’ guest room, Bilbo was shocked to see that all three boys were still in the room, but had all snuggled together in a big pile of warm bodies. The boxer looked up at Bilbo but laid back down when it realized there was no danger. The kitten didn’t even move, just opened one eye and then closed it against the hallway light. Typical cat.

            But where the hell was Thorin?

            Bilbo checked all the other rooms on the second floor; nothing. He thought for a second about the attic room but that made no sense. In all likelihood, Thorin was fast asleep in the ground floor guest room. That was it.

            Bilbo tiptoed down the stairs, just to make sure that Thorin was comfortable; _my father and mother would kill me for letting a guest fend for themselves!_   But a snore from the living room stopped him. There, on the couch that Thorin always joked was just big enough to be too small, was Thorin. As Bilbo got close, he saw that Thorin wore only his jeans and his sleeveless undershirt; Thorin's shirt was pooled over his shoes at one end. His feet were bare and Bilbo almost giggled; he always thought Thorin had such cute feet—Bilbo’s were too big in his opinion.

            It was the undershirt that got Bilbo’s attention. In his sleep, Thorin’s shirt had ridden up, exposing a hairy stomach. It confirmed what Bilbo had suspected all along; that under his clothes, Thorin was a hairy beast. _Yum._ And eyeing that hirsute stomach, Bilbo was … so … very … tempted … to run his hand through the soft pelt.

            _Get a hold of yourself, Baggins!_

            Thorin’s feet were hanging off one arm and the rest of the man looked scrunched up on the couch in the most uncomfortable position. That wouldn’t do for Bilbo.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo whispered.

            Only a snore in reply.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo whispered a little louder.

            Thorin grunted in response.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo continued, “You need to stand up. Come on.” Bilbo gently prodded a hairy arm and amazingly, Thorin slowly sat up. It was clear the man was still asleep but Bilbo figured he could guide his friend to the guest room; if he was going to spend the night, Bilbo was damn sure going to make Thorin comfortable.

            As he'd hoped, Thorin was easy to guide in his sleep and Bilbo gently led the man to the guest room. Bilbo had Thorin sit on the corner of the bed, while he turned down the covers and top-sheet, then fluffed the pillows. However, when he turned back, he froze.

            Thorin had stood in his haze of sleep and was taking off his shirt and shucking his jeans. Bilbo could only watch as Thorin was now down to only his boxer briefs. He had to stifle a tiny hitch; Thorin truly was a blessed man.

            _Don’t look there! Just look at his face; get him to lie down and scram!_

Indeed, as Thorin made moves to remove the thin cotton briefs, Bilbo quickly but gently took his hands and led Thorin over to the bed and had him lie down. Thorin did as directed but just as Bilbo was covering Thorin up, one of Thorin’s hands wrapped gently around Bilbo’s wrist and began to pull him onto the bed as well. Bilbo tried to resist, but Thorin was strong, even in sleep, and Bilbo had little choice but to lie down or else wake Thorin up. To Bilbo's shock and surprise, Thorin moved to wrap his arms around Bilbo’s waist and draw the smaller man to him, tucking Bilbo against his chest and sighing when they finally settled in a comfortable position.

            Bilbo was dying inside! How the hell was he was suppose to get out from Thorin’s embrace without waking the man up?!

            _Maybe if I just lay here, nice and quiet, wait a bit, Thorin will—_

Then Thorin took a deep breath and gently ran the tip of his nose along the shell of Bilbo’s ear.

            Bilbo’s breath hitched at the touch. _Oh God, oh God! Thorin please, wake up!_

Thorin’s hold tightened slightly, pulling Bilbo even closer and Bilbo could barely breath as Thorin now nuzzled Bilbo’s neck.

            Bilbo wasn’t sure what to do! It felt wondrous and sensual, but part of him was dying; what would happen if Thorin woke now and found them like this?! Would he think that Bilbo has taken advantage of him; just as Bilbo always feared? Of course he would! How could he not?! Oh God, Thorin would be embarrassed and hurt and maybe, just maybe, he’d want nothing more to do with—

            “Thorin,” Bilbo whispered.

            Thorin planted a tender kiss on Bilbo’s neck; Bilbo shivered.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo whispered a little louder.

            Thorin continued to nuzzle Bilbo’s neck and peppered it with small kisses, but he was slowly turning Bilbo over and inching his mouth closer to Bilbo’s. Bilbo swallowed because it was so beautiful and he so wanted to kiss Thorin but he didn’t want to use him!

            “Thorin,” Bilbo pleaded; desperate to wake his friend. “Thorin.”

            Thorin released a low groaning growl and continued to nuzzle and kiss Bilbo.

            Thorin was asleep and acting on instinct; Bilbo just knew it. And here Bilbo lay, getting aroused and enjoying it, when in reality he felt that he was taking advantage of Thorin while the man was in a vulnerable state. But what hurt most was that Thorin couldn’t know it was Bilbo; he was just a warm body.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice cracked. “Thorin please wake up. It’s me, Bilbo.”

            At that, Thorin stilled and slowly pushed himself up so that Bilbo had a clear view of his face, even in the moonlit room. What Bilbo saw took his breath completely away; Thorin was not asleep nor hazed still by wine. Thorin was very much awake.

            “I know perfectly well,” Thorin whispered softly, “who I’m making love to.”

            Bilbo could only gape. Had Thorin really just said, _‘making love to?’_

“I’ve come to realize,” Thorin continued, “that you are so much more than a friend to me, Bilbo.”

            Bilbo couldn’t breath. _This can’t be real, can it? Dreams don’t come true, do they? He’s so wonderful and perfect and everything that anyone could want, what could he see—_

            “I … I love you.”

            _Oh._ Bilbo was a total idiot!

            “Of course,” Thorin sounded doubtful, “If you don’t feel the same—”

            “I love you, too!” Bilbo blurted out and was it easier than he thought! “I have for … for a long time, Thorin.”

            Thorin looked incredulous. “For a long … _how_ long?”

            Bilbo bit his lips, but there was no way not to confess now. “I think from that first day in the park.”

            “Are you saying that all this time,” Thorin shook his head, clearly not believing. “Since we met? Why did you never—”

            “You were in so much pain,” Bilbo said quietly. “I never wanted you to think that I was taking advantage of your situation; to use your loss as a means just to get closer to you. I did want to be; closer I mean … I just feared you would think I was playing you to get you in bed, or something, and I worried—”

            “Christ, Bilbo,” Thorin said, bring his forehead to rest on Bilbo’s. “How could you even think that? I would never have thought—”

            “You always said we were friends,” Bilbo stated. “I just figured that was all you wanted from me; friendship.”

            Thorin shook his head. “No. No, that isn’t true—”

            “I didn’t want to risk losing you,” Bilbo explained. “I would rather have had only your friendship, than nothing at—”

            “Shut up, Bilbo,” Thorin said, “And just kiss me already.”

            Thorin pulled, and Bilbo tugged and together, their mouths met and all doubts, and worries, and concerns, and fears vanished and it was just them in the world and oh what a beautiful world it was.

            “Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo breathed as they pulled apart.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin resumed his nuzzling and kissing on Bilbo’s neck but this time it was fervent intent.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo relished the feel of Thorin’s beard on his skin, the moist touch of his lips on his neck and the slight callused graze of Thorin’s hands over his body.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said with a slight growl to his voice.

            Bilbo’s breathing was becoming ragged and he wanted Thorin’s lips on his again.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin repeated, with a bit more of an edge.

            “Yes, love,” Bilbo replied.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin with a nip on Bilbo’s earlobe. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

            _What?_ “Thorin, I’m hardly wearing _any_ clothes.”

            “Like I said,” Thorin definitely growled. “Too many.”

            Bilbo giggled and then gasped as Thorin’s hand went under the waist band of Bilbo’s boxers and wrapped around his hard member.

            “Thorin, wait,” Bilbo urged, pushing Thorin off him.

            “What’s wrong?” Thorin almost looked animistic, which only inflamed Bilbo’s desire even more.

            “What if one of the boys walks in on us?” Bilbo didn’t want to traumatize the kids.

            Thorin gave Bilbo a crooked smile and bent down to nibble along Bilbo’s jaw line. “If they do,” Thorin snarled out. “Then they will get a very quick lesson in the birds and the bees.”

 

 

 


	7. A Time Of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the first day ... of the rest of Thorin and Bilbo's life.

* * *

 

 

            Warmth; it enveloped him, penetrated him, he could feel it in his soul as well as his body. As the light brightened and shone through his eyelids, Thorin breathed deep the warmth about him and it was lovely.

            Just like the soft, curly haired, man in his arms. Thorin pulled Bilbo closer to him and buried his nose in the soft ash-blond curls, taking another, deeper breath.

            Lovely

            Bilbo hummed in what was clearly contentment, and turned in Thorin’s arms so that he could nuzzle into the pelt of Thorin’s chest. Both tightened their hold and any space left between them was consumed by their embrace.

            Once more Thorin breathed into Bilbo’s curls, but this time, Bilbo tilted his head up and Thorin was treated to the gentle press of Bilbo’s lips to his neck, just where beard ended and stubbled skin began. It tickled, but in a sensual way and Thorin could not resist to bend is neck down and press his own lips to Bilbo’s forehead. In response, Bilbo gave Thorin another kiss but this was higher up on Thorin’s bearded chin and Thorin, in reply, leaned down further, kissing Bilbo’s nose. In the next moment, both pairs of lips met and then, as the night before, there was just the two of them in the world.

            “Good morning,” Thorin whispered against Bilbo’s mouth.

            “Yes, it is,” Bilbo said, moving so that they were rubbing noses with each other.

            “I’m such a fool,” Thorin sighed, tracing Bilbo’s cheek with the tip of nose and relishing the soft, tender feel of Bilbo’s skin.

            “Why do you say _that_?” Bilbo murmured into Thorin’s beard as he peppered the taller man’s jaw with butterfly kisses.

            “To think,” Thorin continued soft, “that I could have had all this ages ago if only I had been wise enough to see it.”

            “If that be the case,” Bilbo said; his voice as soft and tender as his touch, “then we must both share the title of fool.” Bilbo pulled back and opened his eyes just as Thorin did the same. “And I do love you.”

            “As I do you,” Thorin said, bring up a hand to cup Bilbo’s face, “my friend,” Bilbo giggled at the little joke. “My love.”

            They brought their lips together again and shared a deep, passion filled kiss.

            A soft knock on the door had them both freeze, just as Fili’s voice sounded. “Uncle Thorin?”

            Thorin took a steadying breath in and called back, “Yes, Fili?”

            “I’m sorry to bother you, Uncle,” Fili sounded like he truly was sorry to bother Thorin. “But your phone keeps ringing over and over; it’s Uncle Dwalin. I didn’t answer it though.”

            _Thank God for that._ “Thank you, Fili. I’ll call him back soon.”

            “Right,” Fili said through the door. “Uhm … Mister Bilbo?”

            Bilbo closed his eyes as his cheeks flamed red, along with his ears. Thorin fought hard not to laugh; there was no pretending that they weren’t together.

            “Yes, Fili?” Bilbo said softly as if there wasn’t anything unusual at all.

            “Uhm … I’m really sorry,” Fili said, sounding again as if he was pained to speak. “I was going to make breakfast but I couldn’t figure out the stove. I just gave Kili and Frodo cold cereal.”

            Thorin was perplexed; Fili was actually very good at the cooking and had made breakfast in the past for Kili and himself, so what was the—of course, Bilbo had a gas stove and Fili had only ever used an electric one. Bilbo seemed to get to the same conclusion at the same time as Thorin.

            “It’s quite all right, Fili,” Bilbo said gently. “We’ll be out shortly and I’ll make breakfast.”

            “Okay, Mister Bilbo,” Fili sounded relieved, as if there was a question of ever getting a real meal again.

            Thorin and Bilbo had about two heartbeats each before they burst into riotous giggles; well, Bilbo giggled while Thorin’s were more snickering snorts.  

            “I guess there is no avoiding the walk of shame,” Bilbo said, looking like he didn’t care in the least.

            Thorin echoed that sentiment. “If taking that walk means being with you, I will gladly make that trip over and over.” Thorin leaned down again and captured Bilbo’s lips with is own. For a fleeting moment, he remember a comment he made to Dis once about how being ecstatically happy should be a crime, to which Dis had replied that that was Thorin’s problem; happiness should never be viewed as a crime. He now knew she was right, there wasn’t a word for how happy he was and he’d be damned before he’d view his feelings for Bilbo as anything other than the greatest gift bestowed to him.

            “Come, my love,” Bilbo said, moving to kiss Thorin’s cheek and get out of bed. “Let’s go tell our boys.”

 _Our boys; what a lovely thing to say._ “Right,” Thorin agree and got up to dress.

            Bilbo put on his undershirt and boxers and found an old dressing gown in the guest room ensuite, while Thorin quickly pulled on his own undershirt and jeans. When they exited, both were expecting three little faces to greet them but instead, found an empty hall. It was in the living room, sitting on the floor, each with a huge bowl of Coco Shreddies in their laps, that they found their three nephews.

            “YAY!” Kili shouted, practically tossing his bowl aside, but thankfully not spilling a drop. “They're awake!”

            “Yes, we’re awake,” Thorin grumbled good-naturedly. “And now most of the neighborhood knows it too!”

            All three children crowded around Thorin and Bilbo and peppered them with questions; “Are you two dating?”, “Are you boyfriends?”, "Are we all going to sleeping over here more often?”, “Is Mister Bilbo going to have sleep overs at our house, now?”, “Does this make Frodo like our brother?”, “Are you going to get married?”, “Was the sex good?”

            “Kili!” Thorin almost chocked as the last question came from his youngest nephew.

            “What?” Kili didn’t see the problem. “Isn’t that what you were doing?”

            “You don’t ask that kind of question!” Thorin stated firmly. _Mainly because we aren’t going to have that conversation just yet._

“Why don’t we all go into the kitchen,” Bilbo said quickly changing the subject, “and I’ll make us waffles.”

            Fili and Kili were particularly happy with that statement. But just as they all turned to head into the kitchen, Bilbo was stopped by Frodo tugging on his dressing gown.

            “What is it, sweet-pea?” Bilbo asked, gazing down at Frodo who was wearing a slightly worried look.

            Frodo, biting his lips, glanced between the two men, before finally looking up at Bilbo and asking in a quiet, soft voice, “Is it okay if I call Mister Thorin, uncle?”

            Both men looked at each other, Bilbo’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the light and Thorin wasn’t sure he could speak for the lump in his throat. Finally, with a breath in, Bilbo looked down at Frodo. “You can if you like.”

            Frodo’s face broke into a huge grin and he turned to throw his arms around Thorin’s legs and hugged them, as he looked up and said, “Uncle Thorin.”

            Thorin instantly scooped up the small boy and hugged him tight. Someone really needed to come up with a new word for happy; because that word was falling far short.

            “HEY!” Kili shouted and punched Fili in the arm, getting his older brother’s attention. “That means we can call Mister Bilbo, _Uncle Bilbo_ , now!”

            Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other and smiled.

            “No it doesn’t!” Fili said with an eye roll. “You have to ask him if it’s okay, eejit!”

            “No I don’t!”

            “Yes you do!”

            “Uncle Bilbo won’t mind! Do you, Uncle Bilbo?” Kili looked up at Bilbo with conviction.

            Bilbo could only laugh; he was clearly getting the new title whether he wanted it or not! But, in truth, he wanted it. “You may call me uncle if you want, and your Uncle Thorin doesn’t mind.”

            Kili glared at Thorin, waiting for his answer and almost daring Thorin to say no.

            “It’s all up to your _Uncle_ Bilbo.” Thorin gave Bilbo a wink.

            Kili gave a cheer as did Fili, but only Kili danced around saying ‘Uncle Bilbo’ over and over; after all, Fili was _‘almost thirteen’_ and wouldn’t be caught dead acting like a little kid.

            “Come on,” Bilbo said, putting an arm around Kili and Fili, “Let’s go have breakfast.”

            Thorin followed with Frodo, who had laid his head on Thorin’s shoulder and kept a tight hold onto his ‘Uncle Thorin.’ Thorin turned and placed a whiskery kiss on Frodo’s cheek, getting his customary squeal in return and feeling that everything was just about perfect!

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

            Breakfast was finished and Bilbo was finishing up the dishes as Thorin wiped down the counter and table. It hadn’t been anything special; just waffles, sausage, potatoes with onions and mushrooms, thick sliced toast with lots of butter—Bilbo loved bread and butter—strong, black coffee for Thorin, smooth Earl Grey for Bilbo and almost two litres of milk between the three boys!

            It was the fact of having all his 'boys' there that made it wondrous for Bilbo; Thorin sitting there, laughing and chatting with Frodo, Kili and Fili—their forks flying as fast as their jokes—and reveling in calling Bilbo ‘Uncle.’

            But there was something else plaguing him, something lingering that he suddenly couldn’t shake. _Could I have this always?_ Bilbo pleadingly thought. _Oh, please God, please let me keep this._

“Sweetheart?” Thorin’s voice cut through Bilbo’s thoughts and brought him back to reality. “Are you all right?”

            Bilbo smiled. It was all right, he was just being silly. “I’m fine. I was just … lost in thought.”

            “Lost more like it,” Thorin sounded concerned. “Where were you?”

            Bilbo smiled, or tried to. _What the hell was wrong with me?_ Gently, Thorin draw Bilbo to him and held him tight. And Bilbo had the sense of safety, warm and safe with Thorin by his side.

            “Tell me what’s bothering you,” Thorin asked again.

            It hit him then; how they had met and why. “I was just thinking about Dis and Prim and Drogo.”

            Thorin seemed to understand. “I’m not leaving you, Bilbo.”

            Bilbo almost wanted to weep; even just the thought of losing Thorin now was devastating.

            “You’d have to physically throw me out of your life to be rid of me.”

            “Oh God! Please don’t say things like that!”

            Thorin pulled back to cup Bilbo’s face. “Let me tell you,” Thorin said softly, placing a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. “I love you and … and I need you.” Thorin exhaled, like confessing his need was akin to releasing a long held breath. “Like I’ve never needed another human being in my life; I need you.”

            Bilbo had no words to that. He simple threw his arms around Thorin’s neck and drew them together as Thorin’s arms wrapped tight around Bilbo’s waist.

            “You know,” Thorin whispered in Bilbo’s ear. “Kili made the comment about if we get married, and—”

            “Not ‘ _if,_ ’” Bilbo was going out on that limb and gladly. “It's 'when', Thorn. When.”

            Thorin squeezed him tighter for a moment and Bilbo felt a kiss pressed to his cheek.

            “When we do,” Thorin continued, his voice a little thicker. “I think we should have it where we met.”

            Bilbo smiled at that. “I assume you don’t mean the café.”

            Thorin laughed. “No.”

            Bilbo nodded; he knew what Thorin was thinking. “You want to have it on that rocky shore, where they held the memorial.”

            Bilbo felt Thorin nod in agreement. “If we have it there, we can reclaim it; it won’t be so sad to visit again, and … and maybe having it there will make it feel like—”

            “Like Dis and Prim and Drogo are there with us.”

            “Yes,” Thorin’s voice hitched just a bit.

            “I think they’d love that.” Bilbo knew he would.

            They held each other close; no words were needed. They knew of their love; it was echoed in the boys laughter, in the feel of their arms about each other, in the taste of each other’s lips, and they heard it in the sound of their hearts that beat together, synced as if beating as one.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THOSE WHO MAY CARE ...
> 
> FILI is 12 (almost 13)  
> KILI is 8  
> FRODO is 7


	8. A Purpose Under Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end ... and the beginning.

* * *

 

_**THREE YEARS AFTER MEETING** _

****

            “Now, I want you to promise to be careful, Frodo.”

            “Uncle Thorin!” The black haired boy said peevishly. “I’m not a baby; I’m ten!”

            “It wouldn’t matter if you were _a hundred-_ and-ten,” Thorin shot back. “I still want you to be careful.”

            “Don’t worry, Uncle Thorin,” Kili said puffing up like a circus strongman, “I’ll keep an eye on him!”

            “That’s less comforting than you think,” Bilbo replied dryly.

            “Chillax, Uncle Bilbo,” Kili bestowed Bilbo with a cheeky grin. “What could go wrong?!”

            “Lots of things, numbskull,” Fili interjected; irritated. “That’s why they want you both _to be careful_!” Fili looked back at both his uncles and rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I’ll watch them.”

            “Good,” Thorin said, before adding, “Just be careful yourself.”

            Fili looked like he might argue but softly sighed again. “Yes, sir.”

            “Thank you, Fili,” Bilbo stated and Fili smiled in reply.

            Bilbo watched as the boys, each carrying a floral wreath, approached the rocky shoreline; his hands buried under his crossed arms in an attempt to control himself and appear calm as much as to keep them warm. “Thorin,” Bilbo said quietly, “Don’t you think, we should—”

            “No,” Thorin said, knowing where Bilbo was going. “They wanted to do this themselves; alone.”

            Bilbo almost released a whimper. “But they could slip—”

            “Fili’s there,” Thorin trying his damnedest to ease his husband’s worried mind; and his own. “And we just need to … to trust that Frodo and Kili will pay close attention.”

            “Right,” Bilbo said, his eyes never leaving their three boys. “Trust in Frodo and Kili.”

            “Correct,” Thorin replied; his eyes also leveled intently their nephews.

            “Just like the time when Kili said they would be careful, only to fall down the stairs not five minutes later, with Frodo, during their game of ‘blind-man’s hide-and-seek?’”

            “I have temporary amnesia,” Thorin said, “and have forgotten that particular incident … at the moment.”

            “Wish I could,” Bilbo murmured, instantly feeling queasy at the remembrance of Kili and Frodo, both with cuts and bruises, laughing at the bottom of the stairs, asking if they could do it again, while he had almost fainted.

            Thorin moved to stand behind his husband, wrapped his arms around him, enclosing Bilbo in warmth; warmth that didn’t need to be asked for; Thorin knew Bilbo was cold. “Try and think of pleasant things,” Thorin whispered.

            _‘Pleasant things’ he says._ But Bilbo couldn’t help but smile; he knew what Thorin really meant for him to think of. _Two years … was it just two years ago?_ _It seems like yesterday and yet, even on that day, it was like we’d waited forever._

When Thorin and Bilbo decided to marry just one year after meeting at the memorial, a few of their family and friends ‘suggested’, that they ‘might be’ rushing things. Grief, they had mentioned, can drive one to make decisions that one could later come to … no one wanted to say the word regret, so terms like ‘question later’, or ‘cast doubts over’, or Bilbo’s favorite, ‘prefer that they hadn’t made’, were bandied about.

            However, in Thorin’s and Bilbo’s opinion, _waiting_ was their only regret. While the word marriage had been tossed about casually that first morning after, within a few weeks, talk on the subject grew serious to both of them; they loved each other, why were they waiting?

            Well, to be honest, they both knew why—the memorial anniversary.

            So, on a cold day at the end of January, in the noon sunshine, Thorin and Bilbo gathered their boys, their family and their closest friends, and stood on the very shore were just one year before they had stood in tears; never knowing, never fully realizing how that day would change the course of their lives; and hearts.  

            Dwalin and Ori had stood as their ‘witnesses’; the term having been the source of an epic showdown between Dwalin and Ori, but that was a tale for another time. Balin and Dori were there, of course, as was Nori and his ‘friend’ Bofur; no one was quite sure about the ‘relationship’ between the two—not even Nori and Bofur it seemed. Gloin and his wife and small boy, Gimli, attended; Gloin was one of Thorin’s cousins as well as his business partner, so of course he came. Bell and Hamfast Gamgee attended, which, in a way, made Bilbo feel like his mother was there. Also, Bell had insisted that her six children come along—not to Bilbo and Thorin of course, they invited the whole family—but to her husband; in Bell’s mind, she wanted to show her children that marriage was marriage and the participant’s gender had nothing to do with love.

            There were a few—unexpected guests too. A few families of other victims had arrived to hold a sort of first annual memorial. There were only about twenty people, but they stood out from the invited wedding guests and it was clear that Thorin and Bilbo were there for more than just remembering the accident.

            Thorin and Bilbo had talked to them, when one in the group had inquired about the wedding. A few had asked if they had met at the memorial and, to save time, Thorin and Bilbo simply said yes. They also stated that anyone that wished to be an impromptu guest was welcomed to attend; they would be most welcomed. A couple of people chose not to participate; whether this was because it was a same-sex wedding, or simply because they thought it inappropriate to hold a wedding on the anniversary of the memorial, no one said. Thorin and Bilbo weren’t going to force anyone to be there or do anything that they were uncomfortable with; everyone had a right to their feelings. But a good many thought it romantic and lovely and did stay for the ceremony.

            When the ceremony was over, Thorin, Bilbo and the three boys released the three wreathes they had for Dis, Prim and Drogo, into the water. Thorin’s idea had been spot on—it had reclaimed the shore from its previously dark meaning to one of joy and, to Thorin and Bilbo, a full circle, started in grief, ending in the promise of a new life.

            The thought of their wedding did indeed chase away the worries, and actually, when Bilbo blinked back to reality, the boys had set their wreaths free and were making their way back to their Uncles.

            “Are you boys ready to go?” Bilbo called out from his cocoon of warmth; he wasn’t sure he wanted Thorin to let him go yet.

            “You bet, Uncle Bilbo!” Kili yelled back, to only slip and fall onto his knees. Bilbo gasped and Thorin tensed but Kili popped back up a second later and raised his now dirty hands and give his uncles two thumbs up. “It’s okay! I’m all good!”

            “You ripped your jeans!” Frodo cried; pointing to Kili’s left knee.

            Kili looked down and then looked directly at Frodo as both boys instantly wore two huge grins and said at the same time, “Awesome!”

            Thorin and Bilbo just shook their heads. Typical.

            “He’s your nephew,” Fili said dryly as he came up to the huddled couple.

            “He’s _your_ brother,” Thorin threw back.

            “Yeah, what does that say to you, Fili?” Bilbo replied with a smirk.

            “That hereditary stupidity can skip siblings,” Fili said as he got into the car and his Uncles roared with laughter.

            “Are you okay?” Bilbo asked Kili as he finally had to leave his husband’s warm embrace.

            “It’s totally fine, Uncle Bilbo,” Kili said, throwing his arms around Bilbo’s waist and giving his uncle a hug. “Don’t worry about me.”

            “Never going to happen,” Bilbo said, returning the hug and then leading them both to the car.

            “Exactly,” Thorin piped up, hefting Frodo up into his arms and following the others. “You might as well ask your uncle not to be hungry.”

            “Speaking of hungry,” Bilbo said.

            “Are you, my love,” Thorin chuckled.

            “Do you really need to ask?”

            “No,” Thorin replied honestly. In minutes, everyone was buckled up and Thorin was pulling out of the car park.

            “Where should we go to eat?” Bilbo asked.

            “I know a great little place, not far from here,” Thorin commented quietly.

            “A place well known for their beef stew?” Bilbo quipped with a sideways glance.

            “Maybe,” Thorin smirked, as all three boys groaned.

            “We always go there!” Fili commented.

            “Yeah, it’s disgusting.” Kili said.

            “No it’s not!” Thorin replied indignantly. “The food’s great!”

            “Agreed,” Bilbo added; feeling offended for their favorite café.

            “It’s not the food,” Frodo said. “All you and Uncle Thorin do is make goo-goo eyes at each other over lunch. It’s disgusting.”

            Bilbo just shrugged; they did, so what?

            “We’ll try and be good,” Thorin said, with an innocent tone as he stopped at an intersection.

            “We will,” Bilbo said in the same innocent tone.

            Both men looked at each other and then leaned in and shared a kiss—right there in board daylight at the corner!

            “EWW!” Frodo said covering his eyes.

            “STOP KISSING!” Kili looked away, embarrassed.

            “I’m going to need therapy,” Fili face palmed.

            Thorin and Bilbo just laughed at their nephews ‘discomfort’; the boys would just have to deal with it. Why, they’d even gladly pay for Fili’s therapy.

 

\---oooOOO888OOOooo---

 

**_THREE YEARS AND ONE MONTH PRIOR_ **

****

            Dis stood on the deck of the small ship and breathed in the crisp winter air. She loved being on the water and this New Year’s Eve dinner cruise was just fantastic; she really needed to do something special for Thorin as a ‘thank you’ for the ticket! She was having such a wonderful time.

            The sounds of a couple, bickering playfully, made her turn. A lovely woman with black hair came out on deck with a large glass of wine in her hand. She was followed by a shorter man with curly hair, holding what appeared to be his own suit jacket.

            “Darling, don’t you think—” the man started.

            “This is only my third glass.”

            “But still, sweetheart—”

            “Drogo, relax! This is a night of enjoyment; besides, I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

            The man, Drogo, just gaped at the lady for a minute before she burst into laughter. “That’s not funny, Primula” Drogo said with slight pursed lips.

            “Oh, it’s very funny you old nut,” Primula said as lean forward and pressed a kiss to Drogo cheek.

            Drogo, started to put his jacket over Primula’s shoulders but she twisted out of his way.

            “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

            “But’s it’s cold out here.”

            “It’s lovely; the fresh air is good for one.”

            “Sure, if one wants to catch their death of cold.”

            “Oh, you worry too much,” Prim said.

            Dis couldn’t help but laugh out loud at their exchange; the couple’s conversation could have taken place between herself and Vili, had Vili still been alive. It was refreshing to hear a loving couple ‘argue’ but not fight. But Dis’ laughter didn’t go unnoticed.

            “See!” Prim said, gesturing to Dis. “Even she thinks you worry too much.”

            “She might be laughing at your snarky drunkenness,” Drogo quipped dryly, which only made Prim and Dis laugh louder, and Drogo couldn’t hold back a small smile himself.

            “How do you do,” Prim said, walking over and extending a hand to Dis. “Primula Baggins. And this wet blanket is my husband, Drogo.”

            “Dis Oakes,” Dis replied with a smile, gladly taking Prim’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

            “Isn’t this cruise fun?” Prim asked

            “Very!” Dis agreed with Prim.

            The two women began talking, sharing their views of the ship, the crew, the food, the entertainment, even the wait staff. They had a great deal in common, and even Drogo joined the conversation here and there, though it was clear that the two ladies were becoming fast friends.   At some point the conversation turned to how hard it was for Dis to get away from work and home to enjoy a night out which led to Primula laughing about how that was a similar issue for her.

            “Of course, I had to talk this one here,” Prim pointed a thumb at Drogo, “into coming along.”

            “We could have spent a lovely evening at home,” Drogo countered, then added, barely heard, “where it’s warm.”

            “Oh, stop,” Prim said with what Dis could see was an affectionate smile. “You would have just spent the whole night on the couch, snuggled with Frodo and watching Disney movies.”

            “Still a lovely evening,” Drogo said shrug.

            “Frodo?” Dis asked; unusual name for a pet.

            “Our boy,” Drogo answered with a proud look on his face.

            “He’s seven,” Prim said with a big smile to Dis, then turned to Drogo. “And Frodo needs a night off from us as much as we need a night off from him. Besides, he’s with Bilbo so you know damn well he is being spoiled and pampered like a little prince.”

            “Bilbo?” Dis had never heard such unique names.

            “Drogo’s cousin,” Prim replied. “Almost a brother though really and so adored by Frodo; they're so cute together.”

            “I know what you mean,” Dis said. “My brother, Thorin, is like my boys' second father they’re so close.”

            “You have boys?” Prim was very interested.

            “Two,” Dis said, and reached into her purse to bring out her photo wallet to show Prim. “That’s Fili and the dark haired one is Kili.”

            “Is that your husband?” Prim asked of the man in the photo.

            “No, that’s Thorin,” Dis corrected with a soft smile. It was a lovely photo, taken just the week previous on Christmas day.

            “He’s so handsome!” Prim added with raised eyebrows.

            Dis just laughed. “God, if only he saw that. I swear he has blinders on when it comes to himself.”

            “Bilbo’s the same way,” Prim commented as she was reaching into her handbag and pulling out her own wallet. “Bilbo only sees his flaws and then convinces himself that everyone else only sees them too.” Prim handed Dis her wallet. “That’s Frodo and Bilbo.” Just like Dis’ photo, it was clearly at Christmas time and showed an adorable child with Prim’s black hair that had Drogo’s curl, and an attractive man with ash-blond hair and blue-grey eyes.

            “They’re both so adorable!” Dis wasn’t joking; they were sweet together. “I can only imagine what Bilbo’s children look like.”

            “Oh, he’s single,” Prim said.

            “Really,” Dis said before adding with a laugh, “Does he like women with children!” Really, that was an issue sometimes with finding a man.

            Prim laughed too, but for a different reason. “He probably would prefer a man with children to be honest.”

            “He’s gay?!”

            “Yes,” Drogo added, clearly not sure if Dis’ astonishment was because of surprise or something worse. “We don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

            “She wasn’t insinuating anything bad,” Prim said gently then turned to Dis. “Drogo is very protective of Bilbo.”

            “I didn’t mean that it was bad,” Dis clarified. “Just that it’s such an unexpected coincidence.” When both Prim and Drogo looked confused, Dis clarified further. “Thorin’s gay as well.”

            “Oh how charming,” Prim was all smiles. “I think every boy needs a gay uncle.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense,” Drogo said perplexed.

            “Sure, it does,” Dis insisted, coming to Prim’s defense. “It shows them a role model of a mature, gay male.”

            Prim reached out and put Dis’ photo next to her own. “Lord, Bilbo and Thorin look so charming together.”

            Dis had to agree. “You know, Thorin’s single as well.” She gave Prim a wink which Prim returned; they were both on the same page.

            But Drogo didn’t see it that way. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to meddle.”

            “It’s not meddling!” Prim was aghast. “We’d just … introduce them to each other and … and let nature take its course.”

            “With you two pushing them together at the same time,” Drogo tacked on.

            “Of course,” Dis shrugged. “How else can nature take its course if we don’t help it along?”

            “Exactly,” Prim said, and both women broke into riotous giggles. Drogo was still clearly on the fence, if one read his expression correctly, but he stayed quiet; for now.

            “Let’s do this,” Prim said. “When we get back, let’s get the boys together with the idea of … of a play date, or cook-out, or something—”

            “And,” Dis continued, “we’ll just happen to invite Thorin and Bilbo over as well!”

            “Perfect,” Prim was thrilled that Dis was on board.

            “I don’t know,” Drogo sounded worried.

            “Come on,” Prim took Dis by the arm and turned her around so that both were staring out at the night sky. “See that star over there?” Dis nodded. “Let’s make a pact and a wish.”

            Dis giggled again but started. “Starlight, star bright.”

            Prim knew her part. “First star I see tonight.”

            “Wish I may.”

            “Wish I might.”

            “Have the wish.”

            “I make tonight.”

            “We wish,” Dis took a breath, “that Thorin and Bilbo come together—”

            “And find happiness with each other,” Prim finished with a little laugh.

            Dis looked like the cat that got the cream. “Now, somehow, come Hell or high water, we just have to find a way to bring those two together.”

            “Bilbo is stubborn,” Prim said. “Is Thorin?”

            “You don’t know by half,” Dis replied.

            “Well, we just need to find a legitimate reason to have them in the same place at the same time.”

            “Agreed,” Dis said, turning and hold out her hand to Prim.

            “Deal,” Prim stated, taking Dis’ hand and shaking it.

            “I don’t know,” Drogo said, shaking his head. “I think you two should be careful what you wish for.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, verses 1-8**  
>  1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven:  
> 2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  
> 3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  
> 4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
> 5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  
> 6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  
> 7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
> 8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.


End file.
